^ 


IRLF 


B    3    151    735 


OPLE'S 
PRIDE 

ilEPHEN  VIHCENT  BENET 


••.->::• 


"WHAT'S  THAT?"  SAID  MRS.  SEVERANCE  SHARPLY 


YOUNG  PEOPLE'S   PRIDE 

A  NOVEL 


BY 

STEPHEN  VINCENT  BEN&T 


ILLUSTRATIONS   BY 

HENRY  RALEIGH 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 
1922 


COPYRIGHT,  1921 
BY 

STEPHEN  VINCENT  BENET 

First] printing,  August  1922 
Second  printing,  December  1922 


FEINTED    IN   U»S»A 

THE    PLIMPTON    PXESS 

NORWOOD-MASS 


ro 


//  7  were  5/y,  /W  steo/  /or  yow  £to  cobbled  hill,  Montmartre, 
Josephine's  embroidered  shoes,  St.  Louis'  oriflamme, 
The  river  on  grey  evenings  and  the  bluebell-glass  of  Chartes, 
And  four  sarcastic  gargoyles  from  the  roof  of  Notre  Dame. 

That  wouldn't  be  enough,  though,  enough  nor  half  a  part; 
There'd  be  shells  because  they're  sorrowful,  and  pansies  since 

they're  wise, 

The  smell  of  rain  on  lilac-bloom,  less  fragrant  than  your  heart, 
And  that  small  blossom  of  your  name,  as  steadfast  as  your 
eyes. 

Sapphires,  pirates,  sandalwood,  porcelains,  sonnets,  pearls, 
Sunsets  gay  as  Joseph's  coat  and  seas  like  milky  jade, 
Dancing  at  your  birthday  like  a  mermaid's  dancing  curls 

—  //  my  fat  her'  d  only  brought  me  up  to  half  a  decent  trade! 

Nothing  I  can  give  you  —  nothing  but  the  rhymes  — 
Nothing  but  the  empty  speech,  the  idle  words  and  few, 
The  mind  made  sick  with  irony  you  helped  so  many  times, 
The  strengthless  water  of  the  soul  your  truthfulness  kept  true. 

Take  the  little  withered  things  and  neither  laugh  nor  cry 

—  Gifts  to  make  a  sick  man  glad  he's  going  out  like  sand  — 
They  and  I  are  yours,  you  know,  as  long  as  there's  an  I. 
Take  them  for  the  ages.    Then  they  may  not  shame  your 

hand. 


848704 


"...  For  there  groweth  in  great  abundance 
in  this 'land  a  small  flower,  much  blown  about 
by  winds,  named 'Young  People's  Pride'.  .  ." 

DYCER'S  Herbal 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S   PRIDE 


IT  is  one  of  Johnny  Chipman's  parties  at  the  Harle 
quin  Club,  and  as  usual  the  people  the  other  people 
have  been  asked  to  meet  are  late  and  as  usual 
Johnny  is  looking  hesitatingly  around  at  those 
already  collected  with  the  nervous  kindliness  of  an 
absent-minded  menagerie-trainer  who  is  trying  to 
make  a  happy  family  out  of  a  wombat,  a  porcupine, 
and  two  small  Scotch  terriers  because  they  are  all 
very  nice  and  he  likes  them  all  and  he  can't  quite 
remember  at  the  moment  just  where  he  got  hold 
of  any  of  them.  This  evening  he  has  been  making 
an  omelet  of  youngests.  K.  Ricky  French,  the 
youngest  Harvard  playwright  to  learn  the  tricks  of 
€43,  a  Boston  exquisite,  impeccably  correct  from 
his  club  tie  to  the  small  gold  animal  on  his  watch- 
chain,  is  almost  coming  to  blows  with  Slade  Wilson, 
the  youngest  San  Francisco  cartoonist  to  be  tempted 
East  by  a  big  paper  and  still  so  new  to  New  York 
that  no  matter  where  he  tries  to  take  the  subway, 


2  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

he  always  finds  himself  buried  under  Times  Square, 
over  a  question  as  to  whether  La  Perouse  or  Foyot's 
has  the  best  hors-d'oeuvres  in  Paris. 

The  conflict  is  taking  place  across  Johnny's  knees, 
both  of  which  ?,re  being  used  for  emphasis  by  the 
disputants  till  he  is  nearly  mashed  like  a  sandwich- 
filling  between  twj  argumentative  slices  of  bread, 
but  he  is  quite  content.  Peter  Piper,  the  youngest 
rare-book  collector  in  the  country,  who,  if  left  to 
himself,  would  have  gravitated  naturally  toward 
French  and  a  devastating  conversation  in  mono 
syllables  on  the  pretty  failings  of  prominent  debu 
tantes,  is  gradually  warming  Clark  Stovall,  the 
youngest  star  of  the  Provincetown  Players  out  of  a 
prickly  silence,  employed  in  supercilious  blinks  at  all 
the  large  pictures  of  celebrated  Harlequins  by  dis 
creet,  intelligent  questions  as  to  the  probable  future 
of  Eugene  O'Neill. 

Stovall  has  just  about  decided  to  throw  Green 
wich  Village  omniscience  overboard  and  admit 
privately  to  himself  that  people  like  Peter  can  be 
both  human  and  interesting  even  if  they  do  live  in 
the  East  Sixties  instead  of  Macdougal  Alley  when 
a  page  comes  in  discreetly  for  Johnny  Chipman. 
Johnny  rises  like  an  agitated  blond  robin  who  has 
just  spied  the  very  two  worms  he  was  keeping  room 
for  to  top  off  breakfast. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  3 

"Well  "  he  says  to  the  world  at  large.  "  They're 
only  fifteen  minutes  late  apiece  this  time." 

He  darts  out  into  the  hall  and  reappears  in  a 
moment,  a  worm  on  either  side.  Both  worms  will 
fit  in  easily  with  the  youthful  assortment  already 
gathered  —  neither  can  be  more  than  twenty-five. 

Oliver  Crowe  is  nearly  six  feet,  vividly  dark,  a 
little  stooping,  dressed  like  anybody  else  in  the 
Yale  Club  from  hair  parted  in  the  middle  to  low 
heavyish  brown  shoes,  though  the  punctured  pat 
terns  on  the  latter  are  a  year  or  so  out  of  date. 
There  is  very  little  that  is  remarkable  about  his 
appearance  except  the  round,  rather  large  head  that 
shows  writer  or  pugilist  indifferently,  brilliant  eyes, 
black  as  black  warm  marble  under  heavy  tortoise- 
shell  glasses  and  a  mouth  that  is  not  weak  in  the 
least  but  somehow  burdened  by  a  pressure  upon  it 
like  a  pressure  of  wings,  the  pressure  of  that  kind 
of  dream  which  will  not  release  the  flesh  it  inhabits 
always  and  agonizes  often  until  it  is  given  perfect 
body  and  so  does  not  release  it  until  such  flesh  has 
ceased.  At  present  he  is  not  the  youngest  anything, 
except,  according  to  himself  '  the  youngest  failure 
in  advertising/  but  a  book  of  nakedly  youthful 
love-poetry,  which  in  gloomy  moments  he  wishes  had 
never  been  written,  although  the  San  Francisco 
Warbler  called  it  as  '  tensely  vital  as  the  Shropshire 


4  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Lad,'  brought  him  several  column  reviews  and  very 
nearly  forty  dollars  in  cash  at  twenty-one  and  since 
then  many  people  of  his  own  age  and  one  or  two 
editors  have  considered  him  "  worth  watching." 

Ted  Billett  is  dark  too,  but  it  is  a  ruddy  darkness 
with  high  clear  color  of  skin.  He  could  pass  any 
where  as  a  College  Senior  and  though  his  clothes 
seem  to  have  been  put  on  anyhow  with  no  regard 
for  pressing  or  tailoring  they  will  always  raise  a 
doubt  in  the  minds  of  the  uninstructed  as  to  whether 
it  is  not  the  higher  carelessness  that  has  dictated 
them  rather  than  ordinary  poverty  —  a  doubt  that, 
in  many  cases,  has  proved  innocently  fortunate  for 
Ted.  His  hands  are  a  curious  mixture  of  square 
executive  ability  and  imaginative  sensitiveness  and 
his  surface  manners  have  often  been  described  as 
1  too  snotty '  by  delicate  souls  toward  whom  Ted 
was  entirely  unconscious  of  having  acted  with  any 
thing  but  the  most  disinterested  politeness.  On 
the  other  hand  a  certain  even-tempered  recklessness 
and  capacity  for  putting  himself  in  the  other  fel 
low's  place  made  him  one  of  the  few  popularly 
lenient  officers  to  be  obeyed  with  discipline  in  his 
outfit  during  the  war.  As  regards  anything  Arty 
or  Crafty  his  attitude  is  merely  appreciative  —  he 
is  finishing  up  his  last  year  of  law  at  Columbia. 

Johnny  introduces  Oliver  and  Ted  to  everybody 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  5 

but  Peter  —  the  three  were  classmates  —  shepherds 
his  flock  with  a  few  disarmingly  personal  insults  to 
prevent  stiffness  closing  down  again  over  the  four 
that  have  already  got  to  talking  at  the  arrival  of 
the  two  newcomers,  and  marshals  them  out  to  the 
terrace  where  they  are  to  have  dinner.  Without 
seeming  to  try,  he  seats  them  so  that  Ted,  Peter 
and  Oliver  will  not  form  an  offensive-defensive  alli 
ance  against  the  three  who  are  strangers  to  them  by 
retailing  New  Haven  anecdotes  to  each  other  for  the 
puzzlement  of  the  rest  and  starts  the  ball  rolling 
with  a  neat  provocative  attack  on  romanticism  in 
general  and  Cabell  in  particular. 


II 


"  JOHNNY'S  strong  for  realism,  aren't  you,  Johnny?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  Ted,  I  am.  I  think  '  Main  Street ' 
and  Three  Soldiers '  are  two  of  the  best  things 
that  ever  happened  to  America.  You  can  say  it's 
propaganda  —  maybe  it  is,  but  at  any  rate!  it's 
real.  Honestly,  I've  gotten  so  tired,  we  all  have,  of 
all  this  stuff  about  the  small  Middle  Western  Town 
being  the  backbone  of  the  country  —  " 

"  Backbone?    Last  vertebra!  " 

"As  for  'Main  Street,'  it's  —  " 

"  It's  the  hardest  book  to  read  through  without 
fallin'  asleep  where  you  sit,  though,  that  I've  struck 
since  the  time  I  had  to  repeat  Geology."  Peter 
smiles.  "  But,  there,  Johnny,  I  guess  I'm  the  bone- 
head  part  of  the  readin'  public  —  " 

"  That's  why  you're  just  the  kind  of  person  that 
ought  to  read  books  like  that,  Peter.  The  reading 
public  in  general  likes  candy  laxatives,  I'll  admit 
—  Old  Nest  stuff  —  but  you  —  " 

"  *  Nobody  else  will  ever  have  to  write  the  de 
scription  of  a  small  Middle  Western  Town  '  "  quotes 
Oliver,  discontentedly.  "  Well,  who  ever  wanted 

6 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  7 

to  write  the  description  of  a  small  Middle  Western 
Town?"  and  from  Ricky  French,  selecting  his  words 
like  flowers  for  a  boutonniere. 

"  The  trouble  with  '  Main  Street '  is  not  that  it 
isn't  the  truth  but  that  it  isn't  nearly  the  whole 
truth.  Now  Sherwood  Anderson  —  " 

"Tennyson.  Who  was  Tennyson?  He  died 
young." 

"  Well,  if  that  is  Clara  Stratton's  idea  of  how  to 
play  a  woman  who  did." 

The  two  sentences  seem  to  come  from  no  one 
and  arrive  nowhere.  They  are  batted  out  of  the 
conversation  like  toy  balloons. 

"  Bunny  Andrews  sailed  for  Paris  Thursday," 
says  Ted  Billett  longingly.  "  Two  years  at  the 
Beaux  Arts,"  and  for  an  instant  the  splintering  of 
lances  stops,  like  the  hush  in  a  tournament  when 
the  marshal  throws  down  the  warder,  at  the  shine 
of  that  single  word. 

"All  the  same,  New  York  is  the  best  place  to  be 
right  now  if  you're  going  to  do  anything  big,"  says 
Johnny  uncomfortably,  too  much  as  if  he  felt  he  just 
had  to  believe  in  it,  but  the  rest  are  silent,  seeing 
the  Seine  wind  under  its  bridges,  cool  as  satin,  grey- 
blue  with  evening,  or  the  sawdust  of  a  resturant 
near  the  quais  where  one  can  eat  Rabe- 
laisiantly  for  six  francs  with  wine  and  talk  about 


8  YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

anything  at  all  without  having  to  pose  or  explain 
or  be  defensive,  or  the  chimneypots  of  La  Cite 
branch-black  against  winter  sky  that  is  pallor  of 
crimson  when  the  smell  of  roast  chestnuts  drifts 
idly  as  a  student  along  Boulevard  St.  Germain,  or 
none  of  these,  or  all,  but  for  each  one  nostalgic 
aspect  of  the  city  where  good  Americans  go  when 
they  die  and  bad  ones  while  they  live  —  to 
Montmartre. 

"New  York  is  twice  as  romantic,  really/7  says 
Johnny  firmly. 

"  If  you  can't  get  out  of  it,"  adds  Oliver  with  a 
twisted  grin. 

Ted  Billett  turns  to  Ricky  French  as  if  each  had 
no  other  friend  in  the  world. 

"  You  were  over,  weren't  you?  "  he  says,  a  little 
diffidently,  but  his  voice  is  that  of  Rachel  weeping 
for  her  children. 

"  Well,  there  was  a  little  cafe  on  the  Rue  Bona 
parte  —  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  know  —  " 


Ill 


THE  party  has  adjourned  to  StovalPs  dog-kennel- 
sized  apartment  on  West  Eleventh  Street  with 
oranges  and  ice,  Peter  Piper  having  suddenly  re 
membered  a  little  place  he  knows  where  what  gin 
is  to  be  bought  is  neither  diluted  Croton  water  nor 
hell-fire.  The  long  drinks  gather  pleasantly  on  the 
table,  are  consumed  by  all  but  Johnny,  gather  again. 
The  talk  grows  more  fluid,  franker. 

"  Phil  Sellaby?  —  oh,  the  great  Phil's  just  had  a 
child  —  I  mean  his  wife  has,  but  Phil's  been  having 
a  book  all  winter  and  it's  hard  not  to  get  'em  mixed 
up.  Know  the  girl  he  married?  " 

"  Ran  Waldo  had  a  necking  acquaintance  with 
her  at  one  time  or  another,  I  believe.  But  now  she's 
turned  serious,  I  hear  —  tres  serieuse  —  tres  bonne 
jemme  —  " 

"  I  bet  his  book'll  be  a  cuckoo,  then.  Trouble 
with  women.  Can't  do  any  art  and  be  married  if 
you're  in  love  with  your  wife.  Instink  —  instinct 
of  creation  —  same  thing  in  both  cases  —  use  it  one 
way,  not  enough  left  for  other  —  unless,  of  course, 
like  Goethe,  you  —  " 


io  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"Rats!  Look  at  Rossetti — Browning — Augus 
tus  John  —  William  Morris  —  " 

"  Browning!  Dear  man,  when  the  public  knows 
the  truth  about  the  Brownings!  " 

Ricky  French  is  getting  a  little  drunk  but  it 
shows  itself  only  in  a  desire  to  make  every  sentence 
unearthly  cogent  with  perfect  words. 

"  Unhappy  marriage  —  ver'  good  —  stimula- 
shion,"  he  says,  carefully  but  unsteadily,  "  other 
thing— tosh!  " 

Peter  Piper  jerks  a  thumb  in  Oliver's  direction. 

"  Oh,  beg  pardon!  Engaged,  you  told  me?  Beg 
pardon  —  sorry  —  very.  Writes  ?  " 

"Uh-huh.  Book  of  poetry  three  years  ago. 
Novel  now  he's  trying  to  sell." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes.  Remember.  <  Dancers'  Holi 
day  '  —  he  wrote  that?  Good  stuff,  damn  good. 
Too  bad.  Feenee.  Why  will  they  get  married?  " 

The  conversation  veers  toward  a  mortuary  dis 
cussion  of  love.  Being  young,  nearly  all  of  them 
are  anxious  for,  completely  puzzled  by  and  rather 
afraid  of  it,  all  at  the  same  time.  They  wish  to 
draw  up  one  logical  code  to  cover  its  every  varia 
tion;  they  look  at  it,  as  it  is  at  present  with  the 
surprised  displeasure  of  florists  at  a  hollyhock  that 
will  come  blue  when  by  every  law  of  variation  it 
should  be  rose.  It  is  only  a  good  deal  later  that 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  n 

they  will  be  able  to  give,  not  blasphemy  because 
the  rules  of  the  game  are  always  mutually  incon 
sistent,  but  tempered  thanks  that  there  are  any  rules 
at  all.  Now  Ricky  French  especially  has  the  air  of 
a  demonstrating  anatomist  over  an  anesthetized 
body.  "Observe,  gentlemen  —  the  carotid  artery 
lies  here.  Now,  inserting  the  scalpel  at  this 
point  —  " 

"  The  trouble  with  Art  is  that  it  doesn't  pay  a 
decent  living  wage  unless  you're  willing  to  com 
mercialize  —  " 

"  The  trouble  with  Art  is  that  it  never  did,  ex 
cept  for  a  few  chance  lucky  people  —  " 

"  The  trouble  with  Art  is  women." 

"The  trouble  with  women  is  Art." 

"  The  trouble  with  Art  —  with  women,  I  mean  — 
change  signals!  What  do  I  mean?  " 


IV 


OLIVER  is  taking  Ted  out  to  Melgrove  with  him 
over  Sunday  for  suburban  fresh-air  and  swimming, 
so  the  two  just  manage  to  catch  the  12.53  fr°m  the 
Grand  Central,  in  spite  of  Slade  Wilson's  invita 
tion  to  talk  all  night  and  breakfast  at  the  Brevoort. 
They  spend  the  rattling,  tunnel-like  passage  to  12  5th 
Street  catching  their  breath  again,  a  breath  that 
seems  to  strike  a  florid  gentlemen  in  a  dirty  collar 
ahead  of  them  with  an  expression  of  permanent, 
sorrowful  hunger.  Then  Ted  remarks  reflectively, 

"  Nice  gin." 

"  Uh-huh.  Not  floor  varnish  anyway  like  most 
of  this  prohibition  stuff.  What  think  of  the 
people?  " 

"Interesting  but  hardly  conclusive.  Liked  the 
Wilson  lad.  Peter,  of  course,  and  Johnny.  The 
French  person  rather  young  Back  Bay,  don't  you 
think?  » 

Oliver  smiles.  The  two  have  been  through  Yale, 
some  of  the  war  and  much  of  the  peace  together, 
and  the  fact  has  inevitably  developed  a  certain 

12 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  13 

quality  of  being  able  to  talk  to  each  other  in 
shorthand. 

"  Well,  Groton  plus  Harvard  —  it  always  gets  a 
little  inhuman  especially  Senior  year  —  but  gin  had 
a  civilizing  influence.  Lucky  devil!  " 

"  Why?  " 

"  Baker's  newest  discovery  —  yes,  it  does  sound 
like  a  patent  medicine.  Don't  mean  that,  but  he 
has  a  play  on  the  road  —  sure-fire,  Johnny  says  — 
Edward  Sheldon  stuff  —  Romance — " 

"  The  Young  Harvard  Romantic.  An  Essay  Pre 
sented  to  the  Faculty  of  Yale  University  by  Theo 
dore  Billett  for  the  Degree  of  —  " 

"  Heard  anything  about  your  novel,  Oliver?  " 

"  Going  to  see  my  pet  Mammon  of  Unrighteous 
ness  about  it  in  a  couple  of  weeks.  Oh  Lord!  " 

"  Present  —  not  voting." 

"  Don't  be  cheap,  Ted.  If  I  could  only  make 
some  money." 

"  Everybody  says  that  there  is  money  in  adver 
tising,"  Ted  quotes  maliciously.  "Where  have  I 
heard  that  before?  " 

"  That's  what  anybody  says  about  anything  till 
they  try  it.  Well,  there  is  —  but  not  in  six  months 
for  a  copy-writer  at  Vanamee  and  Co.  Especially 
when  the  said  copy-writer  has  to  have  enough  to 
marry  on." 


14  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"And  will  write  novels  when  he  ought  to  be  read 
ing,  l  How  I  Sold  America  on  Ossified  Oats '  like  a 
good  little  boy.  Young  people  are  so  impatient." 

"  Well,  good  Lord,  Ted,  we've  been  engaged  eight 
months  already  and  we  aren't  getting  any 
furtherer  — " 

"  Remember  the  copybooks,  my  son.  The  love 
of  a  pure,  good  woman  and  the  one-way  pocket  — 
that's  what  makes  the  millionaires.  Besides,  look 
at  Isaac." 

"  Well,  I'm  no  Isaac.  And  Nancy  isn't  Rebekah, 
praises  be!  But  it  is  an  —  emotional  strain.  On 
both  of  us." 

"  Well,  all  you  have  to  do  is  sell  your  serial 
rights.  After  that  —  pie." 

"  I  know.  The  trouble  is,  I  can  see  it  so  plain  if 
everything  happens  right  —  and  then  — well  —  " 

Ted  is  not  very  consoling. 

"  People  get  funny  ideas  about  each  other  when 
they  aren't  close  by.  Even  when  they're  in  love," 
he  says  rather  darkly;  and  then,  for  no  apparent 
reason,  "  Poor  Billy.  See  it?  " 

Oliver  has,  unfortunately  —  the  announcement 
that  the  engagement  between  Miss  Flavia  Marston 
of  Detroit  and  Mr.  William  Curting  of  New  York 
has  been  broken  by  mutual  consent  was  an  incon 
spicuous  little  paragraph  in  the  morning  papers. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  15 

"That  was  all  —  just  funny  ideas  and  being 
away.  And  then  this  homebred  talent  came  along," 
Ted  muses. 

"  Well,  you're  the  hell  of  a  —  " 
Ted  suddenly  jerks  into  consciousness  of  what  he 
has  been  saying. 

"  Sorry  "  he  says,  completely  apologetic,  "  didn't 

mean  a  word  I  said,  just  sorry  for  Billy,  poor  guy. 

'Fraid  it'll  break  him  up  pretty  bad  at  first."    This 

seems  to  make  matters  rather  worse  and  he  changes 

the  subject  abruptly.     "  How's  Nancy?  "  he  asks 

with  what  he  hopes  seems  disconnected  indifference. 

"  Nancy?    All  right.    Hates  St.  Louis,  of  course." 

"  Should  think  she  might,  this  summer.    Pretty 

hot  there,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Says  it's  like  a  wet  furnace.    And  her  family's 
bothering  her  some." 
"  Urn,  too  bad." 

"  Oh,  /  don't  mind.  But  it's  rotten  for  her.  They 
don't  see  the  point  exactly  —  don't  know  that  I 
blame  them.  She  could  be  in  Paris,  now — that 
woman  was  ready  to  put  up  the  money.  My  fault." 
"  Well,  she  seems  to  like  things  better  the  way 
they  are  —  God  knows  why,  my  antic  friend!  If 
it  were  my  question  between  you  and  a  year  study 
ing  abroad!  Not  that  you  haven't  your  own  subtle 
attractions,  Ollie." 


1 6  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Ted  has  hoped  to  irritate  Oliver  into  argument 
by  the  closing  remark,  but  the  latter  only  accepts 
it  with  militant  gloom. 

"  Yes,  I've  done  her  out  of  that,  too,"  he  says 
abysmally,  "  as  well  as  sticking  her  in  St.  Louis 
while  I  stay  here  and  can't  even  drag  down  enough 
money  to  support  her  —  " 

"  Oh,  Ollie,  snap  out  of  it!  That's  only  being 
dramatic.  You  know  darn  well  you  will  darn  soon. 
I'll  be  saying  '  bless  you,  my  children,  increase  and 
multiply,'  inside  a  month  if  your  novel  goes 
through." 

"If!  Oh  well.  Oh  hell.  I  think  I've  wept  on 
your  shoulder  long  enough  for  tonight,  Ted.  Tell 
me  your  end  of  it  —  things  breaking  all  right?  " 

Ted's  face  sets  into  lines  that  seem  curiously 
foreign  and  aged  for  the  smooth  surface. 

"  Well  —  you  know  my  trouble,"  he  brings  out  at 
last  with  some  difficulty.  "  You  ought  to,  anyhow 
—  we've  talked  each  other  over  too  much  when  we 
were  both  rather  planko  for  you  not  to.  I'm  get 
ting  along,  I  think.  The  work  —  ca  marche  assez 
bien.  And  the  restlessness  —  can  be  stood.  That's 
about  all  there  is  to  say." 

Both  are  completely  serious  now. 

"  Bon.    Very  glad,"  says  Oliver  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  can  stand  it.    I  was  awful  afraid  I  couldn't 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  17 

when  I  first  got  back.  And  law  interests  me,  really, 
though  I've  lost  three  years  because  of  the  war. 
And  I'm  working  like  a  pious  little  devil  with  a 
new  assortment  of  damned  and  when  you  haven't 
any  money  you  can't  go  on  parties  in  New  York 
unless  you  raise  gravy  riding  to  a  fine  art.  Only 
sometimes  —  well,  you  know  how  it  is  —  " 

Oliver  nods. 

"  I'll  be  sitting  there,  at  night  especially,  in  that 
little  tin  Tophet  of  a  room  on  Madison  Avenue, 
working.  I  can  work,  if  I  do  say  it  myself  —  I'm 
hoping  to  get  through  with  school  in  January,  now. 
But  it  gets  pretty  lonely,  sometimes  when  there's  no 
body  to  run  into  that  you  can  really  talk  to  —  the 
people  I  used  to  play  with  in  College  are  out  of  New 
York  for  the  summer  —  even  Peter's  down  at  South 
ampton  most  of  the  time  or  out  at  Star  Bay  — 
you're  in  Melgrove  —  Sam  Woodward's  married  and 
working  in  Chicago  —  Brick  Turner's  in  New 
Mexico  —  I've  dropped  out  of  the  Wall  Street 
bunch  in  the  class  that  hang  out  at  the  Yale  Club 
—  I'm  posted  there  anyhow,  and  besides  they've  all 
made  money  and  I  haven't,  and  all  they  want  to 
talk  about  is  puts  and  calls.  And  then  you  remem 
ber  things. 

"The  time  my  pilot  and  I  blew  into  Paris  when 
we  thought  we  were  hitting  somewhere  around 


1 8  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Nancy  till  we  saw  that  blessed  Eiffel  Tower  poking 
out  of  the  fog.  And  the  Hotel  de  Turenne  on  Rue 
Vavin  and  getting  up  in  the  morning  and  going  out 
for  a  cafe  cognac  breakfast,  and  everything  being 
amiable  and  pleasant,  and  kidding  along  all  the  dear 
little  ladies  that  sat  on  the  terrasse  when  they 
dropped  in  to  talk  over  last  evening's  affairs.  I 
suppose  I'm  a  sensualist  —  " 

"  Everybody  is."  from  Oliver. 

"  Well,  that's  another  thing.  Women.  And  love. 
Ollie,  my  son,  you  don't  know  how  very  damn  lucky 
you  are!" 

"  I  think  I  do,  rather,"  says  Oliver,  a  little  stiffly. 

"  You  don't.  Because  I'd  give  everything  I  have 
for  what  you've  got  and  all  you  can  do  is  worry 
about  whether  you'll  get  married  in  six  months 
or  eight." 

"  I'm  worrying  about  whether  I'll  ever  get  mar 
ried  at  all,"  from  Oliver,  rebelliously. 

"  True  enough,  which  is  where  I'm  glowingly 
sympathetic  for  you,  though  you  may  not  notice  it. 
But  you're  one  of  the  few  people  I  know  —  officers 
at  least  —  who  came  out  of  the  war  without  step 
ping  all  through  their  American  home  ideas  of 
morality  like  a  clown  through  a  fake  glass  window. 
And  I'm  —  Freuded  —  if  I  see  how  or  why  you  did." 

"Don't  myself  —  unless  you  call  it  pure  acci 
dent  "  says  Oliver,  frankly. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  19 

"Well,  that's  it  —  women.  Don't  think  I'm  in 
love  but  the  other  thing  pulls  pretty  strong.  And 
I  want  to  get  married  all  right,  but  what  girls  I 
know  and  like  best  are  in  Peter's  crowd  and  most 
of  them  own  their  own  Rolls  Royces  —  and  I  won't 
be  earning  even  a  starvation  wage  for  two,  inside 
of  three  or  four  years,  I  suppose.  And  as  you 
can't  get  away  from  seeing  and  talking  to  women 
unless  you  go  and  live  in  a  cave  —  well,  about  once 
every  two  weeks  or  oftener  I'd  like  to  chuck  every 
lawbook  I  have  out  of  the  window  on  the  head  of 
the  nearest  cop  —  go  across  again  and  get  some  sort 
of  a  worthless  job  —  I  speak  good  enough  French 
to  do  it  if  I  wanted  —  and  go  to  hell  like  a  gentle 
man  without  having  to  worry  about  it  any  longer. 
And  I  won't  do  that  because  I'm  through  with  it 
and  the  other  thing  is  worth  while.  So  there  you 
are." 

"  So  you  don't  think  you're  in  love  —  eh  Mon 
sieur  Billett?"  Oliver  puts  irritatingly  careful  quo 
tation  marks  around  the  verb.  Ted  twists  a  little. 

"  It  all  seems  so  blamed  impossible,"  he  says 
cryptically. 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  call  Elinor  Piper  that  exactly." 
Oliver  grins.  "  Even  if  she  is  Peter's  sister.  Old 
Peter.  She's  a  nice  girl." 

"  A    nice   girl? "   Ted   begins   rather   violently. 


20  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  She's  —  why  she's  —  "  then  pauses,  seeing  the 
trap. 

"  Oh  very  well  —  that's  all  I  wanted  to  know." 

"  Oh  don't  look  so  much  like  a  little  tin  Talley 
rand,  Ollie!  I'm  not  sure  —  and  that's  rather  more 
than  I'd  even  hint  to  anybody  else." 

"Thanks,  little  darling."  But  Ted  has  been 
stung  too  suddenly,  even  by  Oliver's  light  touch  on 
something  which  he  thought  was  a  complete  and 
mortuary  secret,  to  be  in  a  mood  for  sarcasm. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  might  as  well  know.  I  suppose 
you  do." 

"All  I  know  is  that  you  seem  to  have  been  visit 
ing  —  Peter  —  a  good  deal  this  summer." 

"  Well,  it  started  with  Peter." 

"  It  does  so  often." 

"  Oh  Lord,  now  I've  got  to  tell  you.  Not  that 
there's  anything  —  definite  —  to  tell."  He  pauses, 
looking  at  his  hands. 

"  Well,  I've  just  been  telling  you  how  I  feel  — 
sometimes.  And  other  times  —  being  with  Elinor 
—  she's  been  so  —  kind.  But  I  don't  know,  Ollie, 
honestly  I  don't,  and  that's  that." 

"  You  see,"  he  begins  again,  "  the  other  thing  — 
Oh,  Lord,  it's  so  tangled  up!  But  it's  just  this.  It 
sounds  —  funny  —  probably  —  coining  from  me  — 
and  after  France  and  all  that — but  I'm  not  going  to 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  21 

— pretend  to  myself  I'm  in  love  with  a  girl  —  just 
because  I  may  —  want  to  get  married  —  the  way 
lots  of  people  do.  I  can't.  And  I  couldn't  with  a 
girl  like  Elinor  anyway  —  she's  too  fine." 

"  She  is  rather  fine,"  says  Oliver  appreciatively. 
"  Selective  reticence  —  all  that." 

"  Well,  don't  you  see?  And  a  couple  of  times  — 
I've  been  nearly  sure.  And  then  something  comes 
and  I'm  not  again  —  not  the  way  I  want  to  be. 
And  then  —  Oh,  if  I  were,  it  wouldn't  be  much 

—  use  —  you  know  —  " 
"  Why  not?  " 

"Well,  consider  our  relative  positions — " 

"  Consider  your  grandmother's  cat!     She's  a  girl 

—  you're  a  man.     She's  a  lady  —  you're  certainly 
a  gentleman  —  though  that  sounds  like  Jane  Austen. 
And  —  " 

"And  she's  —  well,  she  isn't  the  wealthiest  young 
lady  in  the  country,  but  the  Pipers  are  rich,  though 
they  never  go  and  splurge  around  about  it.  And 
I'm  living  on  scholarships  and  borrowed  money  from 
the  family — and  even  after  I  really  start  working 
I  probably  won't  make  enough  to  live  on  for  two 
or  three  years  at  least.  And  you  can't  ask  a  girl 
like  that  —  " 

"  Oh,  Ted,  this  is  the  twentieth  century!  I'm  not 
telling  you  to  hang  up  your  hat  and  live  on  your 
wife's  private  income  —  " 


22  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  That's  fortunate/'  from  Ted,  rather  stubbornly 
and  with  a  set  jaw. 

"  But  there's  no  reason  on  earth  —  if  you  both 
really  loved  each  other  and  wanted  to  get  married  — 
why  you  couldn't  let  her  pay  her  share  for  the  first 
few  years.  You  know  darn  well  you're  going  to 
make  money  sometime  —  " 

"Well  — yes." 

"  Well,  then.  And  Elinor's  sporting.  She  isn't 
the  kind  that  needs  six  butlers  to  live  —  she 
doesn't  live  that  way  now.  That's  just  pride, 
Ted,  thinking  that  —  and  a  rather  bum  variety  of 
pride  when  you  come  down  to  it.  I  hate  these  people 
who  moan  around  and  won't  be  happy  unless  they 
can  do  everything  themselves  —  they're  generally 
the  kind  that  give  their  wives  a  charge  account  at 
Lucile's  and  ten  dollars  a  year  pocket  money  and 
go  into  blue  fits  whenever  poor  spouse  runs  fifty 
cents  over  her  allowance." 

Ted  pauses,  considering.    Finally, 

"  No,  Ollie  —  I  don't  think  I'm  quite  that  kind 
of  a  fool.  And  almost  thou  convincest  me  —  and 
all  that.  But— well  —  that  isn't  the  chief  diffi 
culty,  after  all." 

"  Well,  what  is?  "  from  Oliver,  annoyedly. 

Ted  hesitates,  speaking  slowly. 

"Well  — after   the   fact  that   I'm  not  sure  — 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  23 

France,"  he  says  at  last,  and  his  mouth  shuts  after 
the  word  as  if  it  never  wanted  to  open  again. 

Oliver  spreads  both  hands  out  hopelessly. 

"Are  you  never  going  to  get  over  that,  you  ass?  " 

"You  didn't  do  the  things  I  did,"  from  Tf.d, 
rather  difficultly.  "  If  you  had  —  " 

"  If  I  had  I'd  have  been  as  sorry  as  you  are, 
probably,  that  I'd  knocked  over  the  apple  cart 
occasionally.  But  I  wouldn't  spend  the  rest  of  my 
life  worrying  about  it  and  thinking  I  wasn't  fit  to 
go  into  decent  society  because  of  what  happened  to 
most  of  the  A.  E.  F.  Why  you  sound  as  if  you'd 
committed  the  unpardonable  sin.  And  it's  non 
sense." 

"  Well  —  thinking  of  Elinor  —  I'm  not  too  dam 
sure  I  didn't,"  from  Ted,  dejectedly. 

"That  comes  of  being  born  in  New  England  and 
that's  all  there  is  to  it.  Anyhow,  it's  over  now, 
isn't  it?  " 

"  Not  exactly  —  it  comes  back." 

"  Well,  kick  it  every  time  it  does." 

"  But  you  don't  understand.  That  and  —  people 
like  Elinor  —  "  says  Ted  hopelessly. 

"  I  do  understand." 

"  You  don't."  And  this  time  Ted's  face  has  the 
look  of  a  burned  man. 

"  Well  —  "  says  Oliver,  frankly  puzzled.     ' 


24  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Well,  that's  it.  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter.  But  if 
there  was  another  war  —  " 

"  Oh,  leave  us  poor  people  that  are  trying  to  write 
a  couple  of  years  before  you  dump  us  into  heroes' 
graves  by  the  Yang  tse  Kiang!  " 

"Another  war  —  and  bang!  into  the  aviation." 
Ted  muses,  his  face  gone  thin  with  tensity.  "  It 
could  last  as  long  as  it  liked  for  me,  providing  I 
got  through  before  it  did;  you'd  be  living  anyhow, 
living  and  somebody,  and  somebody  who  didn't  give 
a  plaintive  hoot  how  things  broke." 

He  sighs,  and  his  face  smooths  back  a  little. 

"  Well,  Lord,  I've  no  real  reason  to  kick,  I  sup 
pose,"  he  ends.  "  There  are  dozens  of  'em  like  me 
—  dozens  and  hundreds  and  thousands  all  over  the 
shop.  We  had  danger  and  all  the  physical  pleasures 
and  as  much  money  as  we  wanted  and  the  sense 
of  command  —  all  through  the  war.  And  then  they 
come  along  and  say  '  it's  all  off,  girls,'  and  you  go 
back  and  settle  down  and  play  you've  just  come  out 
of  College  in  peace-times  and  maybe  by  the  time 
you're  forty  you'll  have  a  wife  and  an  income  if 
another  scrap  doesn't  come  along.  And  then  when 
we  find  it  isn't  as  easy  to  readjust  as  they  think, 
they  yammer  around  pop-eyed  and  say  '  Oh,  what 
wild  young  people  —  what  naughty  little  wasters ! 
They  won't  settle  down  and  play  Puss-in-the-corner 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  25 

at  all  —  and,  oh  dear,  oh  dear,  how  they  drink  and 
smoke  and  curse  'n  everything!  ' " 

"  I'm  awful  afraid  they  might  be  right  as  to  what's 
the  trouble  with  us,  though,"  says  Oliver,  didacti 
cally.  "  We  are  young,  you  know." 

"  Melgrove!  "  the  conductor  howls,  sleepily. 
"  Melgrove!  Melgrove!  " 


THE  Crowe  house  was  both  small  and  incon 
veniently  situated  —  it  was  twenty  full  minutes  walk 
from  the  station  and  though  a  little  box  of  a  garage 
had  been  one  of  the  "  all  modern  conveniences  "  so 
fervidly  painted  in  the  real  estate  agent's  advertise 
ment,  the  Crowes  had  no  car.  It  was  the  lajst 
house  on  Undercliff  Road  that  had  any  pretense  to 
sparse  grass  and  a  stubbly  hedge  —  beyond  it  were 
sand-dunes,  delusively  ornamented  by  the  signs  of 
streets  that  as  yet  only  existed  in  the  brain  of  the 
owner  of  the  "  development,"  and,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away,  the  long  blue  streak  of  the  Sound. 

Oliver's  key  clicked  in  the  lock  —  this  was  for 
tunately  one  of  the  times  when  four-year-old  Jane 
Ellen,  who  went  about  after  sunset  in  a  continual, 
piteous  fear  of  "  black  men  wif  masks,"  had  omitted 
to  put  the  chain  on  the  door  before  being  carried 
mutinously  to  bed.  Oliver  switched  on  the  hall 
light  and  picked  up  a  letter  and  a  folded  note  from 
the  card  tray. 

"  Ted,  Ollie  and  Dickie  will  share  that  little  bijou, 
the  sleeping  porch,  unless  Ted  prefers  the  third- 

26 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  27 

story  bathtub,"  the  note  read.  "  Breakfast  at  con 
venience  for  those  that  can  get  it  themselves  — 
otherwise  at  nine.  And  DON'T  wake  Dickie  up. 

MOTHER." 

Oliver  passed  it  to  Ted,  who  read  it,  grinned,  and 
saluted,  nearly  knocking  over  the  hatrack. 

u  For  God's  sake!  "  said  Oliver  in  a  piercing  whis 
per,  "Jane  Ellen  will  think  that's  Indians!  " 

Both  listened  frantically  for  a  moment,  holding 
their  breath.  But  there  was  no  sound  from  upstairs 
except  an  occasional  soft  rumbling.  Oliver  had  often 
wondered  what  would  happen  if  the  whole  sleeping 
family  chanced  to  breathe  in  and  out  in  unison 
some  unlucky  night.  He  could  see  the  papery  walls 
blown  apart  like  scraps  of  cardboard  —  Aunt  Elsie 
falling,  falling  with  her  bed  from  her  little  bird- 
house  under  the  eaves,  giving  vent  to  one  deaf,  ter 
rified  "Hey  —  what's  that?"  as  she  sank  like 
Lucifer  cast  from  Heaven  inexorably  down  into  the 
laundry  stove,  her  little  tight,  white  curls  standing 
up  on  end.  .  .  . 

Ted  had  removed  his  shoes  and  was  making  for 
the  stairs  with  the  exaggerated  caution  of  a  burglar 
in  a  film. 

"  'Night!  "  called  Oliver  softly. 

"G'  night!     Where1:-  my  bed-— next  the  wall? 


28  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Good  —  then  I  won't  step  on  Dickie.  And  if  you 
fall  over  me  when  you  come  in,  I'll  bay  like  a  blood 
hound!  " 

"  I'll  look  out.  Be  up  in  a  minute  myself.  Go 
ing  to  write  a  letter." 

"  So  I'd  already  deduced,  Craig  Kennedy,  my 
friend.  Well,  give  her  my  love!  " 

He  smiled  like  a  bad  little  boy  and  disappeared 
round  the  corner.  A  stair  creaked  —  they  were  the 
kind  of  stairs  that  always  creaked  like  old  women's 
bones,  when  you  tried  to  go  up  them  quietly.  There 
was  the  sound  of  something  soft  stubbing  against 
something  hard  and  a  muffled  "  Sonofa  —  " 

"  What's  matter?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Blame  near  broke  my  toe  on  Jane 
Ellen's  doll's  porcelain  head.  'S  all  right.  'Night." 

"  'Night."  Then  in  an  admonitory  sotto-voce, 
"  Remember;  if  you  wake  Dickie,  you've  got  to  tell 
him  stories  till  he  goes  to  sleep  again,  or  he'll  wake 
up  everybody  else!  " 

"  If  he  wakes,  I'll  garotte  him.     'Night." 

"  'Night." 

Oliver  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  waiting  for  the 
crash  that  would  proclaim  that  Ted  had  stumbled 
over  something  and  waked  Dickie  beyond  redemp 
tion.  But  there  was  nothing  but  a  soft  gurgling 
of  water  from  the  bathroom  and  then,  after  a  while, 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  29 

a  slight  but  definite  addition  to  the  distant  beehive 
noises  of  sleep  in  the  house.  He  smiled,  moved 
cautiously  into  the  dining  room,  sat  down  at  the 
small  sharp-cornered  desk  where  all  the  family  cor 
respondence  was  carried  on  and  from  which  at  least 
one  of  the  family  a  day  received  a  grievous  blow 
in  the  side  while  attempting  to  get  around  it;  lit 
the  shaded  light  above  it  and  sat  down  to  read  his 
letter. 

It  was  all  Nancy,  that  letter,  from  the  address, 
firm  and  straight  as  any  promise  she  ever  gave,  but 
graceful  as  the  curl  of  a  vine-stem,  gracile  as  her 
hands,  with  little  unsuspected  curlicues  of  humor 
and  fancy  making  the  stiff  "  t's  "  bend  and  twisting 
the  tails  of  the  "  e's,"  to  the  little  scrunched-up 
"  Love,  Nancy  "  at  the  end,  as  if  she  had  squeezed 
it  there  to  make  it  look  unimportant,  knowing  per 
fectly  that  it  was  the  one  really  important  thing 
in  the  letter  to  him.  Both  would  take  it  so  and  be 
thankful  without  greediness  or  a  longing  for  senti 
mental  "  x's,"  with  a  sense  that  the  thing  so  given 
must  be  very  rich  in  little  like  a  jewel,  and  always 
newly  rediscovered  with  a  shiver  of  pure  wonder 
and  thanking,  or  neither  could  have  borne  to  have 
it  written  so  small. 

It  was  Nancy  just  as  some  of  her  clothes  were 
Nancy,  soft  clear  blues  and  first  appleblossom  pinks, 


30  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

the  colors  of  a  hardy  garden  that  has  no  need  for 
the  phoenix-colors  of  the  poppy,  because  it  has 
passed  the  boy's  necessity  for  talking  at  the  top 
of  its  voice  in  scarlet  and  can  hold  in  one  shaped 
fastidious  petal,  faint-flushed  with  a  single  trembling 
of  one  serene  living  dye,  all  the  colors  the  wise  mind 
knows  and  the  soul  released  into  its  ecstasy  has  taken 
for  its  body  invisible,  its  body  of  delight  most  spot 
less,  as  lightning  takes  bright  body  of  rapture  and 
agony  from  the  light  clear  pallor  that  softens  a  sky 
to  night. 

Oliver  read  the  letter  over  twice  —  it  was  with  a 
satisfaction  like  that  when  body  and  brain  are  fed 
at  once,  invisibly,  by  the  same  lustre  of  force,  that 
he  put  it  away.  One  part  of  it,  though,  left  him 
humanly  troubled  enough. 

"  Miss  Winters,  the  old  incubus,  came  around 
and  was  soppy  to  mother  as  usual  yesterday  —  the 
same  old  business  —  I  might  be  studying  in  Paris, 
now,  instead  of  teaching  drawing  to  stupid  little 
girls,  if  I  hadn't  '  formed '  what  she  will  call  c  that 
unfortunate  attachment.7  Not  that  I  minded,  really, 
though  I  was  angry  enough  to  bite  her  when  she 
gave  a  long  undertaker's  list  of  Penniless  Authors' 
Brides.  But  it  worries  mother  —  and  that  worries 
me  —  and  I  wish  she  wouldn't.  Forgive  me,  Ollie 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  31 

—  and  then  that  Richardson  complex  of  mother's 
came  up  again  —  " 

"  Waiting  hurts,  naturally, —  and  I'm  the  person 
who  used  to  wonder  about  girls  making  such  a  fuss 
about  how  soon  they  got  married  —  but,  then,  Ollie, 
of  course,  I  never  really  wanted  to  get  married  be 
fore  myself  and  somehow  that  seems  to  make  a  dif 
ference.  But  that's  the  way  things  go  —  and  the 
only  thing  I  wish  is  that  I  was  the  only  person  to 
be  hurt.  We  will,  sooner  or  later,  and  it  will  be 
all  the  better  for  our  not  having  grabbed  at  once  — 
at  least  that's  what  all  the  old  people  with  no  emo 
tions  left  are  always  so  anxious  to  tell  you.  But 
they  talk  about  it  as  if  anybody  under  thirty-five 
who  wanted  to  get  married  was  acting  like  a  three- 
year-old  stealing  jam  —  and  that's  annoying.  And 
anyhow,  it  wouldn't  be  bad,  if  I  weren't  so  silly,  I 
suppose  —  " 

"  Waiting  hurts,  naturally,"  and  that  casual  sen 
tence  made  him  chilly  afraid.  For  to  be  in  love, 
though  it  may  force  the  lover  to  actions  of  impos 
sible  courage  does  not  make  him  in  the  least  cour 
ageous  of  himself,  but  only  drives  him  by  the  one 
large  fear  of  losing  this  love  like  a  soldier  pricked 
from  behind  by  a  bayonet  over  the  bodies  of  smaller 
fears,  or  like  a  thief  who  has  stolen  treasure,  and, 
hearing  the  cry  at  his  heels,  scales  a  twenty  foot 


32  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

wall  with  the  agile  gestures  of  a  madman.  All  the 
old-wives'  and  young  men's  club  stories  of  every 
thing  from  broken  engagements  to  the  Generic  and 
Proven  Unfaithfulness  of  the  Female  Sex  brushed 
like  dirty  cobwebs  for  an  instant  across  his  mind. 
They  tightened  about  it  like  silk  threads  —  a 
snaky  web  —  and  for  one  scared  instant  he  had  a 
sense  of  being  smothered  in  dusty  feathers,  whisper 
ing  together  and  saying,  "  When  you're  a  little  older 
and  a  great  deal  wiser.  When  you've  come  to  my 
age  and  know  that  all  girls  are  the  same.  When  you 
realize  that  long  engagements  seldom  mean  mar 
riage.  When  —  " 

He  put  the  cobwebs  aside  with  a  strain  of  will, 
for  he  was  very  tired  in  body,  and  settled  himself 
to  write  to  Nancy.  It  was  not  the  cobwebs  that 
hurt.  The  only  thing  that  mattered  was  that  she 
had  been  hurt  on  his  account  —  was  being  hurt  now 
on  his  account  —  would  be  hurt,  and  still  and  al 
ways  on  his  account,  not  because  he  wanted  to  hurt 
her  but  because  it  was  not  within  his  power,  but 
Life's,  to  hurt  her  in  that  respect  or  not. 

"Oh,  felicitous  Nancy!  "  the  pen  began  to 
scratch.  "  Your  letter  —  " 

Stupid  to  be  so  tired  when  he  was  writing  to 
Nancy.  Stupid  not  to  find  the  right  things  to  say 
at  once  when  you  wanted  to  say  them  so  much. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  33 

He  dropped  the  pen  an  instant,  sat  back,  and  tried 
to  evoke  Nancy  before  him  like  a  small,  clear  picture 
seen  in  a  lens,  tried  to  form  with  his  will  the 
lifeless  air  in  front  of  him  till  it  began  tot  take 
on  some  semblance  and  body  of  her  that  would  be 
better  than  the  tired  remembrances  of  the  mind. 

Often,  and  especially  when  he  had  thought  about 
her  intensely  for  a  long  time,  the  picture  would  not 
come  at  all  or  come  with  tantalizing  incomplete 
ness,  apparently  because  he  wanted  it  to  be  whole 
so  much  —  all  he  could  see  would  be  a  wraith  of 
Nancy,  wooden  as  a  formal  photograph,  with  nohe 
of  her  silences  or  mockeries  about  her  till  he  felt 
like  a  painter  who  has  somehow  let  the  devil  into 
his  paintbox  so  that  each  stroke  he  makes  goes  a 
little  fatally  out  of  true  from  the  vision  in  his  mind 
till  the  canvas  is  only  a  crazy-quilt  of  reds  and 
yellows.  Now,  perhaps,  though,  she  might  come, 
even  though  he  was  tired.  He  pressed  the  back  of  a 
hand  against  his  eyes.  She  was  coming  to  him  now. 
He  remembered  one  of  their  walks  together  —  a  walk 
they  had  taken  some  eight  months  ago,  when  they 
had  been  only  three  days  engaged. 


VI 


UP  Fifth  Avenue;  Forty-second  Street,  Forty- third, 
Forty-fourth,  the  crosstown  glitter  of  lights,  the  re 
flected  glow  of  Broadway,  spraying  the  sky  with 
dim  gold-dust,  begins  to  die  a  little  behind  them. 
Past  pompous  expensive  windows  full  of  the  things 
that  Oliver  and  Nancy  will  buy  when  Oliver's  novel 
has  gone  into  its  first  fifty  thousand,  content  with 
the  mere  touch  of  each  other's  hands,  they  are  so 
sure  of  each  other  now.  Past  people,,  dozens  of 
people,  getting  fewer  and  fewer  as  Forty-sixth 
Street  comes,  Forty-seventh,  Forty-eighth,  always  a 
little  arrogantly  because  none  of  the  automatic 
figures  they  pass  have  ever  eaten  friendly  bread 
together  or  had  fire  that  can  burn  over  them  like 
clear  salt  water  or  the  knowledge  that  the  only 
thing  worth  having  in  life  is  the  hurt  and  gladness 
of  that  fire.  Buses  pass  like  big  squares  of  honey 
comb  on  wheels,  crowded  with  pale,  tired  bees  — 
the  stars  march  slowly  from  the  western  slope  to 
their  light  viewless  pinnacle  in  the  center  of  the 
heavens,  walking  brightly  like  strong  men  in  silvered 
armor  —  the  stars  and  the  buses,  the  buses  and  the 

34 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  35 

stars,  either  and  both  of  as  little  and  much  account 
—  it  would  not  really  surprise  either  Oliver  or 
Nancy  if  the  next  green  bus  that  passes  should  start 
climbing  into  the  sky  like  a  clumsy  bird. 

The  first  intoxication  is  still  upon  them  —  they 
have  told  nobody  except  anyone  who  ever  sees  them 
together  —  they  walk  tactfully  and  never  too  close, 
both  having  a  horror  of  publicly  amatory  couples, 
but  like  the  king's  daughter  —  or  was  it  Solomon's 
Temple?  —  they  are  all  glorious  within.  Fifty-fifth, 
Fifty-sixth,  Fifty-seventh  —  the  square  in  front  of 
the  Plaza  —  that  tall  chopped  bulky  tower  lit  from 
within  like  a  model  in  a  toyshop  window  —  motors 
purring  up  to  its  door  like  thin  dark  cats,  motors 
purring  away.  The  fountain  with  the  little  statue  — 
the  pool  a  cool  dark  stone  cracked  with  the  gold  of 
the  lights  upon  it,  and  near  the  trees  of  the  Park, 
half-hidden,  gold  Sherman,  riding,  riding,  Victory 
striding  ahead  of  him  with  a  golden  palm. 

Ahead  of  them  too  goes  Victory,  over  fear,  over 
doubt,  over  littleness,  her  gold  shoes  ring  like  the 
noise  of  a  sparkling  sword,  her  steps  are  swift. 
They  stand  for  an  instant,  hands  locked,  looking 
back  at  the  long  roller-coaster  swoop  of  the  Avenue, 
listening  to  the  roll  of  tired  wheels,  the  faint  horns, 
the  loud  horns.  They  know  each  other  now  —  their 
hands  grip  tighter  —  in  the  wandering  instant  the 


36  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

whole  background  of  streets  and  tall  buildings  passes 
like  breath  from  a  mirror  —  for  the  instant  with 
out  breath  or  clamor,  they  exist  together,  one  being, 
and  the  being  has  neither  flesh  to  use  the  senses  too 
clumsily,  nor  human  thoughts  to  rust  at  the  will, 
but  lives  with  the  strength  of  a  thunder  and  the 
heedlessness  of  a  wave  in  a  wide  and  bright  eternity 
of  the  unspoken. 

"All  the  same,"  says  Nancy,  when  the  moment 
passes,  lifting  a  shoe  with  the  concern  of  a  kitten 
that  has  just  discovered  a  thorn  in  its  paw,  "  New 
York  pavements  are  certainly  hard  on  loving  feet." 


VII 


So  the  picture  came.  And  other  pictures  like  it. 
And  since  the  living  that  had  made  them  was  past 
for  a  little  they  were  both  fainter  and  in  a  measure 
brighter  with  more  elfin  colors  than  even  that  living 
had  been  which  had  made  them  glow  at  first.  White 
memory  had  taken  them  into  her  long  house  of 
silence  where  everything  is  cool  with  the  silver  of 
Spring  rain  on  leaves,  she  had  washed  from  them  the 
human  pettiness,  the  human  separateness,  the  human 
insufficiency  to  express  the  best  that  must  come  in 
any  mortal  relationship  that  lasts  longer  than  the 
hour.  They  were  not  better  in  memory  than  they 
had  been  when  lived,  for  the  best  remembrance 
makes  only  brilliant  ghosts,  but  they  were  in  their 
dim  measure  nearer  the  soul's  perfection,  for  the 
tricks  of  the  sounding  board  of  the  mind  and  the 
feckless  instrument  of  the  body  had  been  put  away. 
"  We've  had  infinites  already  —  infinites,"  thought 
Oliver,  and  didn't  care  about  the  ludicrous  inept- 
ness  of  the  words.  He  smiled,  turning  back  to  the 
unwritten  letter.  If  they  hadn't  had  infinites  al 
ready —  he  supposed  they  wouldn't  want  more  so 

37 


38  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

badly  right  now.  He  smiled,  but  this  time  without 
humor.  It  had  all  seemed  so  easy  at  first. 

Nancy  had  been  in  Paris  at  fourteen  before 
"  business  reverses  "  of  the  kind  that  mild,  capable- 
looking  men  lijie  Mr.  Ellicott  seem  to  attract,  as 
a  gingerbread  man  draws  wasps,  when  they  are  about 
fifty,  had  reduced  him  to  a  position  as  chief  book 
keeper  and  taken  Nancy  out  of  her  first  year  in 
Farmington.  Oliver  had  spent  nine  months  on  a 
graduate  scholarship  in  Paris  and,  Provence  in  1919. 
Both  had  friends  there  and  argued  long  playful  hours 
planning  just  what  sort  of  a  magnificently  cheap 
apartment  on  the  Rive  Gauche  they  would  have 
when  they  went  back. 

For  they  were  going  back  —  they  had  been  bril 
liantly  sure  of  it  —  Oliver  had  only  to  finish  his 
novel  that  was  so  much  better  already  than  any 
novel  Nancy  had  ever  read  —  sell  a  number  of 
copies  of  it  that  seemed  absurdly  small  in  proportion 
to  the  population  of  America  —  and  then  they 
could  live  where  they  pleased  and  Oliver  could  com 
pose  Great  Works  and  Nancy  get  ahead  with  her 
very  real  and  delicate  talent  for  etching  instead  of 
having  to  do  fashion-drawings  of  slinky  simperers  in 
Lucile  dresses  or  appetite-arousing  paintings  of 
great  cans  of  tomato  soup.  But  that  had  been  eight 
months  ago. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  39 

Vanamee  and  Company's  —  the  neat  vice-presi 
dent  talking  to  Oliver  —  "a  young  hustler  has  every 
chance  in  the  world  of  getting  ahead  here,  Mr. 
Crowe.  You  speak  French?  Well,  we  have  been 
thinking  for  some  time  of  establishing  branch-offices 
in  Europe."  The  chance  of  a  stop-gap  job  in  St. 
Louis  for  Nancy,  where  she  could  be  with  her 
family  for  a  while  —  she  really  ought  to  be  with 
them  a  couple  of  months  at  least,  if  she  and  Oliver 
were  to  be  married  so  soon.  The  hopeful  parting 
in  the  Grand  Central  —  "  But,  Nancy,  you're  sure 
you  wouldn't  mind  going  across  second-class?  " 
"Why  Ollie,  dear,  how  silly!  Why,  what 
would  it  matter?  "  "  All  right,  then,  and  remem 
ber,  I'll  wire  just  as  soon  as  things  really  start  to 
break  —  " 

And  then  for  eight  months,  nothing  at  all  but 
letters  and  letters,  except  two  times,  once  in  New 
York,  once  in  St.  Louis,  when  both  had  spent  painful 
savings  because  they  simply  had  to  see  each  other 
again,  since  even  the  best  letters  were  only  doll- 
house  food  you  could  look  at  and  wish  you  could 
eat  —  and  both  had  tried  so  hard  to  make  each 
disappearing  minute  perfect  before  they  had  to 
catch  trains  again  that  the  effort  left  them  tired  as 
jugglers  who  have  been  balancing  too  many  plates 
and  edgy  at  each  other  for  no  cause  in  the  world 


40  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

except  the  unfairness  that  they  could  only  have 
each  other  now  for  so  short  a  time.  And  the  people, 
the  vast  unescapable  horde  of  the  dull-but-nice  or 
the  merely  dull  who  saw  in  their  meetings  nothing 
either  particularly  spectacular  or  pitiful  or  worth 
applause. 

And  always  after  the  parting,  a  little  crippled 
doubt  tapping  its  crutches  along  the  alleys  of  either 
mind.  "  Do  I  really?  Because  if  I  do,  how  can  I 
be  so  tired  sometimes  with  her,  with  him?  And 
why  can't  I  say  more  and  do  more  and  be  more 
when  he,  when  she?  And  everybody  says.  And 
they're  older  than  we  are  —  mightn't  it  be  true? 
And  — "  And  then,  remorsefully,  the  next  day, 
all  doubt  burnt  out  by  the  clear  hurt  of  absence. 
"  Oh  how  could  I !  When  it  is  real  —  when  it  is 
like  that  —  when  it  is  the  only  thing  worth  while 
in  the  world!  " 

But  absence  and  meetings  of  this  sort  told  on 
them  inescapably,  and  both  being,  unfortunately, 
of  a  rather  high-strung  intelligence  and  youth,  rec 
ognized  it,  no  matter  how  much  consciousness 
might  deny  it,  and  wondered  sometimes,  rather 
pitiably,  why  they  couldn't  be  always  at  one  tem 
perature,  like  lovers  in  poetry,  and  why  either 
should  ever  worry  or  hurt  the  other  when  they 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  41 

loved.  Any  middle-aged  person  could  and  did  tell 
them  that  they  were  now  really  learning  something 
about  love  —  omitting  the  small  fact  that  Pain, 
though  he  comes  with  the  highest  literary  recom 
mendations  is  really  not  the  wisest  teacher  of  all 
in  such  matters  —  all  of  which  helped  the  constant 
nervous  and  psychological  strain  on  both  as  little 
as  a  Latin  exorcism  would  help  a  fever.  For  the 
very  reason  that  they  wished  to  be  true  in  their 
love,  they  said  things  in  their  letters  that  a  spoken 
word  or  a  gesture  would  have  explained  in  an  in 
stant  but  that  no  printed  alphabet  could;  and  so 
they  often  hurt  each  other  while  meaning  and  trying 
to  help  all  they  could. 

Not  quite  as  easy  as  it  had  seemed  at  first  —  oh, 
not  on  your  life  not,  thought  Oliver,  rousing  out  of 
a  gloomy  muse.  And  then  there  was  the  writing 
he  wanted  to  do  —  and  Nancy's  etching  —  "  our 
damn  careers  "  they  had  called  them  —  but  those 
were  the  things  they  did  best  —  and  neither  had  had 
even  tolerable  working  conditions  recently  — 

Well,  sufficient  to  the  day  was  the  evil  thereof  — 
that  was  one  of  those  safe  Bible-texts  you  seemed 
to  find  more  and  more  use  for  the  older  you  grew. 
Bible-texts.  It  was  lucky  tomorrow  was  Sunday 
when  slaves  of  the  alarm-clock  had  peace. 


42  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Oliver  straightened  his  shoulders  unconsciously 
and  turned  back  to  the  blank  paper.  He  did  love 
Nancy.  He  did  love  Nancy.  That  was  all  that 
counted. 

"Oh,  felicitous  Nancy! 

Your  letter  was  —  " 


VIII 

THE  water  was  a  broken  glass  of  blue,  sunstruck 
waves  —  there  were  few  swimmers  in  it  where  the 
two  friends  went  in  next  morning,  for  the  beach 
proper  with  its  bath-houses  and  float  was  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  down.  Oliver  could  see  Mar 
garet's  red  cap  bobbing  twenty  yards  out  as  he 
tried  the  water  cautiously  with  curling  toes,  and, 
much  farther  out,  a  blue  cap  and  the  flash  of  an 
arm  going  suddenly  under.  Mrs.  Severance,  the 
friend  Louise  had  brought  out  for  the  week-end,  he 
supposed;  she  swam  remarkably  for  a  woman.  He 
swam  well  enough  himself  and  couldn't  give  her 
two  yards  in  the  hundred.  Ted  stood  beside  him, 
both  tingling  a  little  at  the  fresh  of  the  salt  air. 
"  Wow!  "  and  they  plunged. 

A  mock  race  followed  for  twenty  yards  —  then 
Oliver  curved  off  to  duck  Margaret,  already  scream 
ing  and  paddling  at  his  approach,  while  Ted  kept  on. 

He  swam  face  deep,  catching  short  breaths  under 
the  crook  of  his  arm,  burying  himself  in  the  live 
blue  running  sparkle,  every  muscle  stretched  as  if 
he  were  trying  to  rub  all  the  staleness  that  can  come 

43 


44  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

to  the  mind  and  the  restless  pricklings  that  will  al 
ways  worry  the  body  clean  from  him,  like  a  snake's 
cast  skin,  against  the  wet  rough  hands  of  the  water. 
There  —  it  was  working  —  the  flesh  was  compact 
and  separate  no  longer  —  he  felt  it  dissolve  into 
the  salt  push  of  spray  —  become  one  with  that  long 
blue  body  of  wave  that  stretched  fluently  radiant 
for  miles  and  miles  till  it  too  was  no  more  identity 
but  only  sea,  receiving  the  sun,  without  thought, 
without  limbs>  without  pain.  He  sprinted  with  the 
last  breath  he  had  in  him  to  annihilation  in  that 
li^ht  lustrous  firmament.  Then  his  flung-out  hand 
struck  something  firm  and  smooth.  With  the 
momentary  twinge  of  a  jarred  toe,  he  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  a  stroke,  grabbed  at  the  firm  thing 
unthinkingly,  felt  it  slip  away  from  him,  trod  water 
and  came  up  gasping. 

"  Oh,  I'm  horribly  sorry!  "  Gurgle  and  choke 
at  water  gone  the  wrong  way.  "  Honestly  —  what 
a  dumb-bell  trick!  but  I  didn't  see  you  at  all  and 
with  the  whole  Sound  to  swim  in  I  thought  I  was 
safe  —  " 

He  rubbed  the  water  out  of  his  eyes.  A  woman 
in  a  blue  cap.  Pretty,  too  —  not  one  of  the  pretty 
kind  that  look  like  drenched  paper-dolls  in  swim 
ming. 

"  Don't  apologize  — it's  all  my  fault,  really.    I 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  45 

should  have  heard  you  coming,  I  suppose,  but  I 
was  floating  and  my  ears  were  under  water  —  and 
this  cap!  You  did  scare  me  a  little,  though;  I 
didn't  know  there  was  anyone  else  in  miles  —  " 

She  smiled  frankly.  Ted  got  another  look  at  her 
and  decided  that  pretty  was  hardly  right.  Beau 
tiful,  perhaps,  but  you  couldn't  tell  with  her  hair 
that  way  under  her  cap. 

"You're  Mr.  Billett,  aren't  you?  Louise  said 
last  night  that  her  brother  was  bringing  a  friend 
over  Sunday.  She  also  said  that  she'd  introduce 
us  —  but  we  seem  to  have  done  that." 

"  Rather.  Introduction  by  drowning.  The  latest 
cleverness  in  Newport  circles  —  see  '  Mode.'  And 
you're  Mrs.  Severance." 

"  Yes.    Nice  water." 

"  Perfect." 

A  third  look  —  a  fairly  long  one  —  left  Ted  still 
puzzled.  Age  —  thirty?  thirty-five?  Swims  per 
fectly.  On  "  Mode."  Wide  eyes,  sea-blue,  sea- 
changing.  An  odd  nose  that  succeeded  in  being 
beautiful  in  spite  of  itself.  A  rather  full  small 
mouth,  not  loose  with  sense  nor  rigid  with  things 
controlled,  but  a  mouth  that  would  suck  like  a  bee 
at  the  last  and  tiniest  drop  of  any  physical  sweet 
which  the  chin  and  the  eyes  had  once  decided  to 
want.  The  eyes  measure,  the  mouth  asks,  the  cleft 


46  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

chin  finds  the  way.  A  face  neither  content,  nor 
easily  to  be  contented  —  in  repose  it  is  neither 
happy  nor  unhappy  but  only  matured.  Louise's 
friend  —  that  was  funny  —  Louise  had  such  an 
ideal  simplicity  of  mind.  Well  — 

"  If  you  float  —  after  a  while  you  don't  know 
quite  where  you're  floating,"  said  Mrs.  Severance's 
voice  detachedly. 

Ted  made  no  answer  but  turned  over,  spreading 
out  his  arms.  For  a  few  moments  they  lay  like 
corpses  on  the  blue  swelling  round  of  the  water 
looking  straight  through  infinite  distance  into  the 
thin  faint  vapor  of  the  sky. 

"Yes,  I  see  what  you  mean." 

"  We  might  be  clouds,  almost,  mightn't  we?  " 
with  a  slow  following  note  of  laughter. 

Ted  looked  deeper  into  the  sky,  half-closing  his 
eyelids.  It  seemed  to  take  his  body  from  him  com 
pletely,  to  leave  him  nothing  but  a  naked  soothed 
consciousness,  rising  and  falling,  a  petal  on  a  swing 
ing  bough,  in  the  heart  of  blue  quietude  like  the 
quiet  of  an  open  place  in  a  forest  empty  with 
evening. 

"Clouds,"  said  Mrs.  Severance's  voice,  turning 
the  word  to  a  sound  breathed  lightly  through  the 
curled  and  husky  gold  of  a  forest-horn. 

Through  the  midst  of  his  sea-drowsiness  a  queer 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  47 

thought  came  to  Ted.  This  had  happened  before, 
in  sleep  perhaps,  in  a  book  he  had  read  —  Oliver's 
novel,  possibly,  he  thought  and  smiled.  Lying 
alone  on  a  roof  of  blue  water,  and  yet  not  lying 
alone,  for  there  was  that  slow  warm  voice  that  talked 
from  time  to  time  and  came  into  the  mind  on  tip 
toe  like  the  creeping  of  soft-shoed,  hasteless,  fire. 
You  stretched  your  hands  to  the  fire  and  let  it  warm 
you  and  soon  your  whole  body  was  warm  and 
pleased  and  alive.  That  was  when  you  were  alive 
past  measure,  when  all  of  you  had  been  made  warm 
as  a  cat  fed  after  being  hungry,  and  the  cat  arose 
from  its  warmth  and  went  walking  on  velvet  paws, 
stretching  sleek  legs,  sleek  body,  slowly  and  ex 
quisitely  under  the  firelight,  heavy  with  warmth, 
but  ready  at  the  instant  signal  of  the  small  burning 
thing  in  its  mind  to  turn  like  a  black  butterfly  and 
dance  a  slow  seeking  dance  with  the  shadows  of 
the  fire  that  flickered  like  leaves  in  light  wind,  de 
sirable,  impalpable  and  wavering,  never  to  be  quite 
torn  down  from  the  wall  and  eaten  and  so  possessed. 
But  there  was  an  odd  thirsty  satisfaction  in  trying 
to  tear  the  shadows. 

Fantastic.  He  had  not  been  so  fantastic  for  a 
long  time. 

"  And  tomorrow  there's  '  Mode.'  And  fashion- 
plates.  And  Greenwich  Villagers,"  said  the  voice 
of  Mrs.  Severance. 


48  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

He  made  some  reply  impatiently,  disliking  the 
sound  of  his  own  voice  —  hers  fitted  with  the  dream. 
When  had  he  been  this  before? 

The  Morte  d'Arthur  —  the  two  with  a  sword 
between. 

He  sank  deeper,  deeper,  into  the  glow  of  that 
imagined  firelight  —  the  flame  was  cooler  than  water 
to  walk  through  —  that  time  he  had  almost  taken 
a  turning  shadow  into  his  hand.  The  sword  be 
tween —  only  here  there  was  no  sword.  If  he 
reached  out  his  hand  he  knew  just  how  the  hand 
that  he  touched  would  feel,  cool  and  firm,  like  that 
flame.  Cool  and  silent. 

There  must  have  been  something,  somewhere,  to 
make  him  remember.  .  .  . 

He  remembered. 

A  minute  later  Oliver  had  splashed  up  to  them, 
shouting  "A  rescue!  A  rescue!  Guests  Drown 
While  Host  Looks  On  Smilingly!  What's  the 
matter,  Ted,  you  look  as  if  you  wanted  to  turn  into 
a  submarine?  Got  cramp?  " 


IX 


MRS.  CROWE  relaxed  a  little  for  the  first  tired 
minute  of  her  day.  Sunday  dinner  was  nearly  over, 
and  though,  in  one  way,  the  best  meal  in  the  week 
for  her  because  all  her  children  were  sure  to  be  at 
home,  it  was  apt  to  be  pure  purgatory  on  a  hot  day, 
with  Sheba  dawdling  and  grumbling  and  Rosalind 
spilling  pea-soup  on  her  Sunday  dress,  and  Aunt 
Elsie's  deafness  increased  by  the  weather  to  the 
point  of  mild  imbecility. 

She  had  been  a  little  afraid  today,  especially 
with  two  guests  and  the  grandchildren  rampant 
after  church,  and  the  extra  leaf  in  the  table  that 
squeezed  Colonel  Crowe  almost  into  the  sideboard 
and  herself  nearly  out  of  the  window  and  made 
the  serving  of  a  meal  a  series  of  passings  of  over- 
hot  plates  from  hand  to  hand,  exposed  to  the 
piracies  of  Jane  Ellen.  But  it  had  gone  off  better 
than  she  could  have  hoped.  Colonel  Crowe  had 
not  absent-mindedly  begun  to  serve  vegetables  with 
a  teaspoon,  Aunt  Elsie  had  not  dissolved  in  tears 
and  tottered  away  from  the  table  at  some  imagined 

49 


50  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

rudeness  of  Dickie's,  and  Jane  Ellen  had  not  once 
had  a  chance  to  take  off  her  drawers. 

"  Ice  tea !  "  said  the  avid  voice  of  Jane  Ellen  hi 
her  ear.  "Ice  tea!  " 

Mrs.  Crowe  filled  the  glass  and  submitted  a  re 
quest  for  "  please  "  mechanically.  She  wondered, 
rather  idly,  if  she  would  spend  her  time  in  pur 
gatory  serving  millions  of  Jane  Ellens  with  iced  tea. 

"  Ahem!  "  That  was  Colonel  Crowe.  "  But  you 
should  have  known  us  in  the  days  of  our  greatness, 
Mrs.  Severance.  When  I  was  king  of  Estancia  —  " 

"  I'd  rather  have  you  like  this,  Colonel  Crowe, 
really.  I've  always  wanted  big  families  and  never 
had  one  to  live  in  —  " 

"  Heard  from  Nancy  recently,  Oliver?  "  from 
Margaret,  slightly  satiric. 

"  Why  yes,,  Margie,  now  and  then.  Not  as  often 
as  you've  heard  from  Stu  Winthrop  probably 
but  —  " 

"  Motha,  can  I  have  some  suga  on  my  boober- 
rish?  Motha,  can  I  have  some  suga  on  my  boober- 
rish?  Motha  —  peesh!  " 

11  Oh,  hush  a  minute,  Rosalind  dear.  I  don't 
know,  Oliver.  I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Field  about  it  if 
you  like.  I  should  think  they'd  take  little  sketches 
like  a  couple  of  those  Nancy  showed  you  — 
though  they  aren't  quite  smart-alecky  enough  for 
'  Mode  '  —  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  51 

"  Grandfather,  Grandfather!  How  old  would  you 
be  if  you  were  as  old  as  Methusaleh?  Are  you 
older  than  he  is?  Grandfather!  " 

Entrance  and  exit  of  a  worried  Sheba  with  the 
empty  dish  of  blueberries,  marred  only  by  Jane 
Ellen's  sudden  cries  of  "  Stop  thief!  " 

Mrs.  Crowe  tried  to  think  a  little  ahead.  To 
morrow.  Ice.  Butter.  Laundry.  Oliver's  break 
fast  early  again.  Louise  —  poor  Louise  —  two 
years  and  a  half  since  Clifford  Lychgate  died.  How 
curious  life  was;  how  curious  and  careless  and  in 
consecutive.  The  thought  of  how  much  she  hoped 
Oliver's  novel  would  succeed  and  the  question  as 
to  whether  the  Thebes  grocer  who  delivered  by 
motor-truck  would  be  cheaper  than  the  similar  Mel- 
grove  bandit  in  the  long  run  mixed  uneasily  in  her 
mind. 

Rosalind  had  seemed  droopy  that  morning  — 
more  green  crab-apples  probably.  Aunt  Elsie's  gout. 
Oliver's  marriage  —  she  had  been  so  relieved  about 
Nancy  ever  since  she  had  met  her,  though  it  had 
been  hard  to  reconcile  domestic  virtues  with  Nancy's 
bobbed  hair.  She  would  make  Oliver  happy, 
though,  and  that  was  the  main  thing.  She  was 
really  sweet  —  a  sweet  girl.  Long  engagements. 
Too  bad,  too  bad.  Something  must  be  done  about 
the  stair  carpet,  the  children  were  tearing  it  to 
pieces. 


52  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S   PRIDE 

"Ice  tea!     Ice  tea!  " 

"  No,  Jane  Ellen." 

"  Yash." 

"  No,  darling." 

"  Peesh  yash?  " 

"  No.  Now  be  a  good  little  girl  and  run  out  and 
play  quietly,  not  right  in  the  middle  of  the  broiling 
sun." 

"  And  so  Lizzie  said,  '  Very  well,  but  if  I  do  take 
that  medicine  my  death  will  be  wholly  on  your 
responsibility!  ' "  with  a  sense  of  climax. 

"  But  I  really  would  like  to,  Mrs.  Severance,  if 
you  can  ever  spare  the  time." 

Ted  and  Louise's  friend  seemed  to  be  getting 
along  very  well.  That  was  nice  —  so  often  Oliver's 
friends  and  Louise's  didn't.  It  seemed  odd  that 
Mrs.  Severance  should  be  working  on  "  Mode  "  — 
surely  a  girl  of  her  obvious  looks  and  intelligence 
left  with  no  children  to  support  —  some  nice  man  — 
A  lady,  too,  by  her  voice,  though  there  was  a  trifle 
of  something  — 

She  only  hoped  Mrs.  Severance  didn't  think  them 
all  too  crowded  and  noisy.  It  was  a  little  hard  on 
the  three  children  to  have  such  an  —  intimate  — 
home  when  they  brought  friends. 

"  I  think  we'd  better  have  coffee  out  on  the  porch, 
don't  you?  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  53 

That  meant  argument  with  Sheba  later  but  an 
hour's  cool  and  talk  without  having  to  shout  across 
the  dear  little  children  was  worth  the  argument. 

Everybody  got  up,  Ted  being  rather  gallant  to 
Mrs.  Severance.  Oliver  looked  worried  today,  wor 
ried  and  tired.  She  hoped  it  wasn't  about  Nancy 
and  the  engagement.  What  a  miserable  thing 
money  was  to  make  so  much  difference. 

"  Mrs.  Severance  —  " 

"Mr.  Bfflett  — " 

Louise's  friend  was  certainly  attractive.  That 
wonderful  red-gold  hair  —  "  setter  color  "  her  sister 
had  always  called  it  of  her  own.  She  must  write 
her  sister.  Mrs.  Severance  —  an  odd  name.  She 
rather  wished,  though,  that  her  face  wouldn't  turn 
faintly  hard  like  that  sometimes. 

"  No,  Dickie.  No  chocolate  unless  your  mother 
says  you  can  have  it.  No,  Rosalind,  if  mother  says 
not,  you  certainly  cannot  go  over  and  play  at  the 
Rogers',  —  they  have  a  paralytic  grandmother  who 
is  very  nervous." 

Well,  that  was  over.  And  now,  for  a  few  brief 
instants  there  would  be  quiet  and  a  chance  to 
relax  and  really  see  something  of  Oliver.  Mrs. 
Crowe  started  moving  slowly  towards  the  door. 
Ted  and  Mrs.  Severance  blocked  the  way,  talking 
rather  intimately,  she  thought,  for  people  who  had 


54  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

only  known  each  other  a  few  hours;  but  then  that 
was  the  modern  way.  Then  Ted  saw  her  and 
seemed  to  wake  up  with  a  jump  from  whatever  mild 
dream  possessed  him,  and  Mrs.  Severance  turned 
toward  her. 

"  It's  so  comfortable  being  out  here,  always,"  she 
said  very  naturally  and  kindly,  but  Mrs.  Crowe  did 
not  reply  at  once  to  the  pretty  speech.  Instead 
she  flushed  deeply  and  bent  over  something  small 
and  white  on  the  chair  with  the  dictionary  in  it  that 
had  been  next  to  hers.  Jane  Ellen  had  finally  suc 
ceeded  in  taking  off  her  drawers. 


X 


TED  and  Oliver  were  down  at  the  beach  at  South 
ampton  two  Sundays  later  —  week-end  guests  of 
Peter  Piper  —  the  three  had  been  classmates  at 
Yale  and  the  friendship  had  not  lapsed  like  so  many 
because  Peter  happened  to  be  rich  and  Ted  and 
Oliver  poor.  And  then  there  was  always  Elinor, 
Peter's  sister  —  Ted  seemed,  to  Oliver's  amused 
vision,  at  least,  to  be  looking  at  Elinor  with  the 
hungry  eyes  of  a  man  seeing  a  delicate,  longed-for 
dream  made  flesh  just  at  present  instead  of  a  girl 
he  had  known  since  she  first  put  up  her  hair.  How 
nice  that  would  be  if  it  happened,  thought  Oliver, 
match-makingly  —  how  very  nice  indeed!  Best 
thing  in  the  world  for  Ted  —  and  Elinor  too  —  if 
Ted  would,  only  get  away  from  his  curiously  Puritan 
idea  that  a  few  minor  lapses  from  New  England 
morality  in  France  constituted  the  unpardonable 
sin,  at  least  as  far  as  marrying  a  nice  girl  was  con 
cerned.  He  stretched  back  lazily,  digging  elbows 
into  the  warm  sand. 

The  day  had  really  been  too  hot  for  anything 
more  vigorous  than  "  just  lying  around  in  the  sun 

55 


56  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

like  those  funny  kinds  of  lizards,"  as  Peter  put  it, 
and  besides,  he  and  Oliver  had  an  offensive-defensive 
alliance  of  The  Country's  Tiredest  Young  Business 
Men  and  insisted  that  their  only  function  in  life 
was  to  be  gently  and  graciously  amused.  And  cer 
tainly  the  spectacle  about  them  was  one  to  provide 
amusement  in  the  extreme  for  even  the  most  mildly 
satiric  mind. 

It  was  the  beach's  most  crowded  hour  and  the 
short  strip  of  sand  in  front  of  the  most  fashionable 
and  uncomfortable  place  to  bathe  on  Long  Island 
was  gay  as  a  patch  of  exhibition  sweet-peas  with 
every  shade  of  vivid  or  delicate  color.  It  was  a 
triumph  of  women  —  the  whole  glittering,  moving 
bouquet  of  stripes  and  patterns  and  tints  that 
wandered  slowly  from  one  striped  parasol-mush 
room  to  the  next  —  the  men,  in  their  bathing  suits 
or  white  flannels  seemed  as  unimportant  if  necessary 
furniture  as  slaves  in  an  Eastern  court.  The  women 
dominated,  from  the  jingle  of  the  bags  in  the  hands 
of  the  dowagers  and  the  faint,  protesting  creak  of 
their  corsets  as  they  picked  their  way  as  delicately 
as  fat,  gorgeous  macaws  across  the  sand,  to  the 
sound  of  their  daughters'  voices,  musical  as  a 
pigeon-loft,  as  they  chattered  catchwords  at  each 
other  and  their  partners,  or  occasionally,  very 
occasionally,  dipped  in  for  a  three-minute  swim. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  57 

Moreover,  and  supremely,  it  was  a  triumph  of 
ritual,  and  such  ritual  as  reminded  Oliver  a  little 
of  the  curious,  unanimous  and  apparently  meaning 
less  movements  of  a  colony  of  penguins,  for  the 
entire  assemblage  had  arrived  around  twelve  o'clock 
and  by  a  quarter  past  one  not  one  of  them  would 
be  left.  That  was  law  as  unwritten  and  unbreak 
able  as  that  law  which  governs  the  migratory 
habits  of  wild  geese.  And  within  that  little  more 
than  an  hour  possibly  one-third  of  them  would  go 
as  far  as  wetting  their  hands  in  the  water  —  all  the 
rest  had  come  for  the  single  reason  of  seeing  and 
being  seen.  It  was  all  extremely  American  and, 
on  the  whole,  rather  superb,  Oliver  thought  as  he 
and  Peter  moved  over  nearer  to  the  parasol  that 
sheltered  Elinor  and  Ted. 

"I  wish  it  was  Egypt,"  said  Peter  languidly. 
"Any  more  peppermints  left,  El?  No  —  well,  Ted 
never  could  restrain  himself  when  it  came  to  food. 
I  wish  it  was  Egypt,"  he  repeated,  making  Elinor's 
left  foot  a  pillow  for  his  head. 

"  Well,  it's  hot  enough,"  from  Oliver,  dozingly. 
"Ah  —  oo  —  it's  hot!'9 

"  I  know,  but  just  think,"  Peter  chuckled. 
"  Clothes,"  he  explained  cryptically,  "  Mrs.  Willa 
mette  in  a  Cleopatra  nightie  —  what  sport!  And 


58  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

besides,  I  should  make  a  magnificent  Egyptian. 
Magnificent."  He  yawned  immensely.  "  In  the 
first  place,  of  course,  I  should  paint  myself  a  brilliant 
orange  —  " 

The  Egyptians.  An  odd  wonder  rose  in  Ted  —  a 
wonder  as  to  whether  one  of  those  stripped  and 
hook-nosed  slaves  of  the  bondage  before  Moses  had 
ever  happened  to  stand  up  for  a  moment  to  wipe 
the  sweat  out  of  his  eyes  before  he  bent  again  to  his 
task  of  making  bricks  without  straw  and  seen  a 
princess  of  the  Egyptians  carried  along  past  the 
quarries. 

"  Tell  us  a  story,  El,"  from  Oliver  in  the  voice 
of  one  who  is  sleep-walking.  "  A  nice  quiet  story  — 
the  Three  Bears  or  Giant  the  Jack  Killer  —  oh 
heaven,  I  must  be  asleep  —  but  you  know,  anything 
like  that  —  " 

"  You  really  want  a  story? "  Elinor's  voice 
was  reticently  mocking.  "  A  story  for  good  little 
boys?  " 

"  Oh,  yes! "  from  Peter,  his  clasped  hands 
stretched  toward  her  in  an  attitude  of  absurd  suppli 
cation.  "  All  in  nice  little  words  of  one  syllable 
or  we  won't  understand." 

"  Well,  once  there  were  three  little  girls  named 
Elsie,  Lacie  and  Tillie  and  they  lived  in  the  bottom 
of  a  well." 


I 


•brrl 


WELL,  ONCE  THERE  WERE  THREE  LITTLE  GIRLS  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  59 

"  What  kind  of  a  well?  "  Oliver  had  caught  the 
cue  at  once. 

"  A  treacle  well  —  " 

She  went  on  with  the  Dormouse's  Tale,  but  Ted, 
for  once,  hardly  heard  her  —  his  mind  was  too  busy 
with  its  odd,  Egyptological  dream. 

The  princess  who  looked  like  Elinor.  Her  slaves 
would  come  first  —  a  fat  bawling  eunuch,  all  one 
black  glisten  like  new  patent-leather,  striking  with 
a  silver  rod  to  clear  dogs  and  crocodiles  and  Israel 
ites  out  of  the  way.  Then  the  litter  —  and  a  flash 
between  curtains  blown  aside  for  an  instant  —  and 
Hook  Nose  gazing  and  gazing  —  all  the  fine  fighting 
curses  of  David  on  the  infidel,  that  he  had  muttered 
sourly  under  breath  all  day,  blowing  away  from  him 
like  sand  from  the  face  of  a  sphinx. 

Pomp  sounding  in  brass  and  cries  all  around  the 
litter  like  the  boasting  color  of  a  trumpet  —  but  in 
the  litter  not  pomp  but  fineness  passing.  Fineness 
of  youth  untouched,  from  the  clear  contrast  of 
white  skin  and  crow-black  hair  to  the  hands  that 
had  the  little  stirrings  of  moon-moths  against  the 
green  robe.  Fineness  of  mind  that  will  not  admit 
the  unescapable  minor  dirts  of  living,  however  much 
it  may  see  them,  a  mind  temperate  with  reticence 
and  gentleness,  seeing  not  life  itself  but  its  own  de- 


60  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

lighted  dream  of  it,  a  heart  that  had  had  few  shocks 
as  yet,  and  never  the  ones  that  the  heart  must  be 
mailed  or  masked  to  withstand.  The  thing  that 
passed  had  been  continually  sheltered,  exquisitely 
guarded  from  the  stronger  airs  of  life  as  priests 
might  guard  a  lotus,  and  yet  it  was  neither  tenderly 
unhealthy  nor  sumptuously  weak.  A  lotus  —  that 
was  it  —  and  Hook  Nose  stood  looking  at  the  lotus 

—  and  because  it  was  innocent  he  filled  his  eyes  with 
it.    And  then  it  passed  and  its  music  went  out  of 
the  mind. 

"  Ted!  " 

"What?  What?  Oh,  yeah  — sorry,  Elinor,  I 
wasn't  paying  proper  attention." 

"You  mean  you  were  asleep,  you  big  cheese!  " 
from  Peter. 

"  I  wasn't  —  just  thinking,"  and  seeing  that  this 
only  brought  raucous  mirth  from  both  Peter  and 
Oliver,  "  Oh,  shut  up,  you  apes!  Were  you  asking 
me  something,  El?  " 

It  was  rather  a  change  to  come  back  from  Elinor 
in  scarab  robes  being  carried  along  in  a  litter  to 
Elinor  sitting  beside  him  in  a  bathing  suit.  But 
hardly  an  unpleasant  change. 

"  I've  forgotten  how  it  goes  on  —  the  Dormouse 

—  after  '  Well  in.'    Do  you  remember?  " 

"  Nope.  Look  it  up  when  we  get  back.  And 
anyhow  —  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  61 

"  What?  " 

"  Game  called  /for  to-day.  The  Lirrups  have 
started  looking  important  —  that  means  it's  about 
ten  minutes  of,  they  always  leave  on  the  dot. 
Well  —  "  and  Peter  rose,  scattering  sand.  "  We 
must  obey  our  social  calendar,  my  prominent  young 
friends  —  just  think  how  awful  it  would  be  if  we 
were  the  last  to  go.  Race  you  half-way  to  the  float 
and  back,  Ted." 

"  You're  on,"  and  the  next  few  minutes  were 
splashingly  athletic. 

Going  back  to  the  bath-house,  though,  Ted 
laughed  at  himself  rather  whimsically.  That  ex 
traordinary  day-dream  of  the  slave  and  the  Elinor 
Princess!  It  helped  sometimes,  to  make  pictures  of 
the  very  impossible  —  even  of  things  as  impossible 
as  that.  If  Elinor  had  only  been  older  before  the 
war  came  along  and  changed  so  much. 

He  saw  another  little  mental  photograph,  the  kind 
of  photograph,  he  mused,  that  sleekly  shabby 
Frenchmen  slip  from  under  views  of  the  Vendome 
Column  and  Napoleon's  Tomb  when  they  are  trying 
to  sell  tourists  picture  post-cards  outside  the  Cafe 
de  la  Paix.  Judged  by  American  standards  the  work 
would  be  called  rather  frank.  It  was  all  interior  — 
the  interior  of  a  room  in  a  Montmartre  hotel  — 


62  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

and  there  were  two  people  in  it  to  help  out  the 
composition  —  and  the  face  of  one  seemed  some 
how  to  be  rather  deathly  familiar  — 

That,  and  Elinor.  Why,  Hook  Nose  could 
"  reform  "  all  the  rest  of  his  life  in  accordance  with 
the  highest  dictionary  standards  —  and  still  he 
wouldn't  be  fit  to  look  at  his  princess,  even  from 
inside  a  cage. 

Also,  if  you  happened  to  be  of  a  certain  analytic 
temperament  you  could  see  what  was  happening  to 
yourself  all  the  while  quite  plainly  —  oh,  much  too 
plainly!  — and  yet  that  seemed  to  make  very  little 
difference  in  its  going  on  happening.  There  was 
Mrs.  Severance,  for  instance.  He  had  been  seeing 
quite  a  good  deal  of  Mrs.  Severance  lately. 

"Oh,  Ted!  "  from  Peter  next  door.  "Snap  it 
up,  old  keed,  or  we'll  all  of  us  be  late  for  lunch." 

They  had  just  sat  down  to  lunch  and  Peter  was 
complaining  that  the  whipped  cream  on  the  soup 
made  him  feel  as  if  he  were  eating  cotton-batting, 
when  a  servant  materialized  noiselessly  beside 
Oliver's  chair. 

"  Telephone  for  you,  Mr.  Crowe.  Western  Union 
calling." 

Oliver  jumped  up  with  suspicious  alacrity.  "  Oh, 
love,  love,  love!  "  crooned  Peter.  "  Oh,  love,  love, 
lovel  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  63 

Oliver  flushed.  "  Don't  swipe  all  my  butter,  you 
simple  cynic!  "  He  knew  what  it  was,  of  course. 

"  This  is  Oliver  Crowe  talking.  Will  you  give 
me  the  telegram?  " 

Nancy  and  Oliver,  finding  Sunday  mails  of  a 
dilatory  unsatisfactoriness,  had  made  a  compact  to 
use  the  wire  on  that  day  instead.  And  even  now 
Oliver  never  listened  to  the  mechanical  buzz  of 
Central's  voice  in  his  ear  without  a  little  pulse  of 
the  heart.  It  seemed  to  bring  Nancy  nearer  than 
letters  could,  somehow.  Nancy  had  an  imperial  con 
tempt  for  boiling  down  attractive  sentences  to  the 
necessary  ten  or  twenty  words.  This  time,  though, 
the  telegram  was  short. 

"  Mr.  Oliver  Crowe,  care  Peter  Piper,  Southamp 
ton,"  clicked  Central  dispassionately.  "  I  hate  St. 
Louis.  I  would  give  anything  in  the  world  if  we 
could  only  see  each  other  for  twenty-four  hours. 
Love.  Signed,  Nancy." 

And  Oliver,  after  hanging  up  the  receiver,  went 
back  to  the  dining-room  with  worry  barking  and 
running  around  his  mind  like  a  spoiled  puppy, 
wondering  savagely  why  so  many  rocking-chair 
people  took  a  crepey  pleasure  in  saying  it  was  good 
for  young  people  in  love  to  have  to  wait. 


XI 


TEA  for  two  at  the  Gondolier,  that  newest  and 
quotation-marked  " Quaintest"  of  Village  tea  rooms. 
The  chief  points  in  the  Gondolier's  "  quaintness  " 
seem  to  be  that  it  is  chopped  up  into  as  many  little 
partitions  as  a  roulette  wheel  and  that  all  food  has 
to  be  carried  up  from  a  cellar  that  imparts  even  to 
orange  marmalade  a  faint  persuasive  odor  of  some 
body  else's  wash.  Still,  during  the  last  eight 
months,  the  Gondolier  has  been  a  radical  bookstore 
devoted  to  bloody  red  pamphlets,  a  batik  shop  full 
of  strange  limp  garments  ornamented  with  deco 
rative  squiggles,  and  a  Roumanian  Restaurant  called 
"  The  Brodska "  whose  menu  seemed  to  consist 
almost  entirely  of  old  fish  and  maraschino  cherries. 
The  wispy  little  woman  from  Des  Moines  who 
conducts  the  Gondolier  at  present  in  a  series  of 
timid  continual  flutters  at  actually  leading  the  life  of 
the  Bohemian  untamed,  and  who  gives  all  the  young 
hungry-looking  men  extra  slices  of  toast  because 
any  one  of  them  might  be  Vachel  Lindsay  in  dis 
guise,  will  fail  in  another  six  weeks  and  then  the 
Gondolier  may  turn  into  anything  from  a  Free  Verse 

64 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  65 

Tavern  to  a  Meeting  Hall  for  the  Friends  of  Slovak 
Freedom.  But  at  present,  the  tea  is  much  too  good 
for  the  price  in  spite  of  its  inescapable  laundry  tang, 
and  there  is  a  flat  green  bowl  full  of  Japanese  iris 
bulbs  in  the  window  —  the  second  of  which  pleases 
Mrs.  Severance  and  the  first  Ted. 

Besides  like  most  establishments  on  the  verge  of 
bankruptcy,  it  is  such  a  quiet  place  to  talk  —  the 
only  other  two  people  in  it  are  a  boy  with  startled 
hair  and  an  orange  smock  and  a  cigaretty  girl  called 
Tommy,  and  she  is  far  too  busy  telling  him  that  that 
dream  about  wearing  a  necklace  of  flying-fish  shows 
a  dangerous  inferiority  complex  even  to  comment 
caustically  on  strangers  from  uptown  who  will  in 
trude  on  the  dear  Village. 

"  Funny  stuff  —  dreams,"  says  Ted  uneasily, 
catching  at  overheard  phrases  for  a  conversational 
jumping-off  place.  His  mind,  always  a  little  on  edge 
now  with  work  and  bad  feeding,  has  been  too  busy 
since  they  came  in  comparing  Rose  Severance  with 
Elinor  Piper,  and  wondering  why,  when  one  is  so 
like  a  golden-skinned  August  pear  and  the  other  a 
branch  of  winter  blackberries  against  snow  just 
fallen,  it  is  not  as  good  but  somehow  warmer  to 
think  of  the  first  against  your  touch  than  the  second, 
to  leave  him  wholly  at  ease. 

"  Yes  —  funny  stuff,"  Mrs.  Severance's  voice  is 


66  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

musically  quiet.  "And  then  you  tell  them  to  people 
who  pretend  to  know  all  about  what  they  mean  — 
and  then  —  "  She  shrugs  shoulders  at  the  Freudian 
two  across  the  shoulder-high  partition. 

"  But  you  don't  believe  in  all  this  psycho-analysis 
tosh,  do  you?  " 

She  hesitates.  "A  little,  yes.  Like  the  old 
woman  and  ghosts.  I  may  not  believe  in  it  but  I'm 
afraid  of  it,  rather." 

She  gives  him  a  steady  look  —  her  eyes  go  deep. 
It  is  not  so  much  the  intensity  of  the  look  as  its 
haltingness  that  makes  warmth  go  over  him. 

"  Shall  we  tell  our  dreams  —  the  favorite  ones,  I 
mean?  Play  fair  if  we  do,  remember,"  she  adds 
slowly. 

"  Not  if  you're  really  afraid." 

"I?  But  it's  just  because  I  am  afraid  that  I 
really  should,  you  know.  Like  going  into  a  dark 
room  when  you  don't  want  to." 

"  But  they  can't  be  as  scary  as  that,  surely." 
Ted's  voice  is  a  little  false.  Both  are  watching  each 
other  intently  now —  he  with  a  puzzled  sense  of 
lazy  enveloping  firelight. 

"  Well,  shall  I  begin?  After  all  this  is  tea  in  the 
Village." 

"  I  should  be  very  much  interested  indeed,  Mrs. 
Severance,"  says  Ted  rather  gravely.  "  Check!  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  67 

"  How  official  you  sound  —  almost  as  if  you  had 
a  lot  of  those  funny  little  machines  all  the  modern 
doctors  use  and  were  going  to  mail  me  off  to  your 
pet  sanatorium  at  once  because  you'd  asked  me  what 
green  reminded  me  of  and  I  said  l  cheese '  instead 
of  i  trees.7  And  anyhow,  I  never  have  any  startling 
dreams — only  silly  ones — much  too  silly  to  tell — " 

"  Please  go  on."  Ted's  voice  has  really  become 
quite  clinical. 

"  Oh  very  well.  They  don't  count  when  you  only 
have  them  once  —  just  when  they  keep  coming  back 
and  back  to  you  —  isn't  that  it?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

Mrs.  Severance's  eyes  waver  a  little  —  her 
mouth  seeking  for  the  proper  kind  of  dream. 

"  It's  not  much  but  it  comes  quite  regularly  — 
the  most  punctual,  old-fashioned-servant  sort  of  a 
dream. 

"  It  doesn't  begin  with  sleep,  you  know  —  it 
begins  with  waking.  At  least  it's  just  as  if  I  were 
in  my  own  bed  in  my  own  apartment  and  then 
gradually  I  started  to  wake.  You  know  how  you 
can  feel  that  somebody  else  is  in  the  room  though 
you  can't  see  them  —  that's  the  feeling.  And,  of 
course  being  a  normal  American  business  woman, 
my  first  idea  is  —  burglars.  And  I'm  very  cow 
ardly  for  a  minute.  Then  the  cowardice  passes  and 
I  decide  to  get  up  and  see  what  it  is. 


68  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  It  is  somebody  else  —  or  something  —  but  no 
body  I  think  that  I  ever  really  knew.  And  at  first 
I  don't  want  to  walk  toward  it  —  and  then  I  do 
because  it  keeps  pulling  me  in  spite  of  myself.  So 
I  go  to  it  —  hands  out  so  I  won't  knock  over  things. 

"  And  then  I  touch  it  —  or  him  —  or  her  —  and 
I'm  suddenly  very,  very  happy. 

"  That's  all. 

"  And  now,  Dr.  Billett,  what  would  you  say  of 
my  case?  " 

Ted's  eyes  are  glowing  —  in  the  middle  of  her 
description  his  heart  has  begun  to  knock  to  a  hidden 
pulse,  insistent  and  soft  as  the  drum  of  gloved 
fingers  on  velvet.  He  picks  words  carefully. 

"  I  should  say  —  Mrs.  Severance  —  that  there 
was  something  you  needed  and  wanted  and  didn't 
have  at  present.  And  that  you  would  probably 
have  it  —  in  the  end." 

She  laughs  a  little.  "  Rather  cryptic,  isn't  that, 
doctor?  And  you'd  prescribe?  " 

"  Prescribe?  c  It's  an  awkward  matter  to  play 
with  souls.' " 

" '  And  trouble  enough  to  save  your  own/  "  she 
completes  the  quotation.  "  Yes,  that's  true  enough 
—  though  I'm  sorry  you  can't  even  tell  me  to  use 
this  twice  a  day  in  half  a  glass  of  water  and  that 
other  directly  after  each  meal.  I  think  I'll  have  to 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  69 

be  a  little  more  definite  when  it  comes  to  your 
turn  —  if  it  does  come." 

"  Oh  it  will."  But  instead  of  beginning,  he  raises 
his  eyes  to  her  again.  This  time  there  is  a  heavi 
ness  like  sleep  on  both,  a  heaviness  that  draws  both 
together  inaudibly  and  down,  and  down,  as  if  they 
were  sinking  through  piled  thickness  on  thickness 
of  warm,  sweet-scented  grass.  Odd  faces  come  into 
both  minds  and  vanish  as  if  flickered  off  a  film  —  to 
Rose  Severance,  a  man  narrow  and  flat  as  if  he 
were  cut  out  of  thin  grey  paper,  talking,  talking  in  a 
voice  as  dry  and  rattling  as  a  flapping  windowblind 
of  their  "  vacation  "  together  and  a  house  with  a 
little  garden  where  she  can  sew  and  he  can  putter 
around,  —  to  Ted,  Elinor  Piper,  the  profile  pure  as 
if  it  were  painted  on  water,  passing  like  water  flow 
ing  from  the  earth  in  springs,  in  its  haughty  temper 
ance,  its  retired  beauty,  its  murmurous  quiet — other 
faces,  some  trembling  as  if  touched  with  light  flames, 
some  calm,  some  merely  grotesque  with  longing  or 
too  much  pleasure  —  all  these  pass.  A  great  near 
ness,  fiercer  and  more  slumbrous  than  any  nearness 
of  body  takes  their  place.  It  wraps  the  two  closer 
and  closer,  a  spider  spinning  a  soft  web  out  of 
petals,  folding  the  two  with  swathes  and  swathes 
of  its  heavy,  fragrant  silk. 

"  Oh  —  mine  —  isn't  anything,"  says  Ted  rather 


70  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

unsteadily,  after  the  moment.    "  Only  looking  at 
firelight  and  wanting  to  take  the  coals  in  my  hands." 

Rose's  voice  is  firmer  than  his  but  her  mouth  is 
still  moved  with  content  at  the  thing  it  has  desired 
being  brought  nearer. 

"  I  really  can't  prescribe  on  as  little  evidence  as 
that,"  she  says  with  music  come  back  to  her  voice 
in  the  strength  of  a  running  wave.  "  I  can  only 
repeat  what  you  told  me.  That  there  was  some 
thing  you  needed  —  and  wanted  "  —  she  is  mocking 
now  —  "  and  didn't  have  at  present.  And  that  you 
would  probably  —  what  was  it?  —  oh  yes  —  have 
it,  in  the  end." 

The  wispy  little  woman  has  crept  up  to  Ted's 
elbow  with  an  illegible  bill.  Rose  has  spoken 
slowly  to  give  her  time  to  get  there  —  it  is  always 
so  much  better  to  choose  your  own  most  effective 
background  for  really  affecting  scenes. 

"And  now  I  really  must  be  getting  back/'  she 
cuts  in  briskly,  her  fingers  playing  with  a  hat  that 
certainly  needs  no  rearrangement,  when  Ted,  after 
absent-mindedly  paying  the  bill,  is  starting  to  speak 
in  the  voice  of  one  still  sleep-walking. 

"  But  it  was  delightful,  Mr.  Billett  —  I  love  talk 
ing  about  myself  and  you  were  really  very  sweet  to 
listen  so  nicely."  She  has  definitely  risen.  Ted 
must,  too.  "  We  must  do  it  again  some  time 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  71 

soon  —  I'm  going  to  see  if  there  aren't  any  of  those 
books  with  long  German  names  drifting  around 
'  Mode '  somewhere  so  that  I'll  be  able  to  simply 
stun  you  with  my  erudition  the  next  time  we  talk 
over  dreams." 

They  are  at  the  door  now,  she  guiding  him  toward 
it  as  imperceptibly  and  skillfully  as  if  she  controlled 
him  by  wireless. 

"  And  it  isn't  fair  of  me  to  let  you  give  all  the 
parties  —  it  simply  isn't.  Couldn't  you  come  up  to 
dinner  in  my  little  apartment  sometime  —  it  really 
isn't  unconventional,  especially  for  anyone  who's 
once  seen  my  pattern  of  an  English  maid  —  " 

Sunlight  and  Minetta  Lane  again  —  and  what 
ever  Ted  may  want  to  say  out  of  his  walking  trance 
—  this  is  certainly  no  place  where  any  of  it  can 
be  said. 


XII 


OLIVER  CROWE,  at  his  desk  in  the  copy-department 
of  Vanamee  and  Co.'s,  has  been  spending  most  of 
the  afternoon  twiddling  pencils  and  reading  and  re 
reading  two  letters  out  of  his  pocket  instead  of 
righteously  thinking  up  layouts  for  the  new  United 
Steel  Frame  Pulley  Campaign.  He  realizes  that 
the  layouts  are  important  —  that  has  been  brought 
to  his  attention  already  by  several  pink  memoranda 
from  Mr.  Deller,  the  head  of  the  department  —  but 
an  immense  distaste  for  all  things  in  general  and 
advertising  in  particular  has  overwhelmed  him  all 
day.  He  looks  around  the  big,  brightly  lighted 
room  with  a  stupefied  sort  of  loathing  —  advertis 
ing  does  not  suit  him  —  he  is  doing  all  he  can  at  it 
because  of  Nancy  —  but  he  simply  does  not  seem 
to  get  the  hang  of  the  thing  even  after  eight  months 
odd  and  he  is  conscious  of  the  fact  that  the  Powers 
that  be  are  already  looking  at  him  with  distrustful 
eyes,  in  spite  of  his  occasional  flashes  of  brilliance. 
If  he  could  only  get  out  of  it  —  get  into  something 
where  his  particular  kind  of  mind  and  training  would 

72 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  73 

be  useful  —  oh  well  —  he  grunts  and  turns  back  to 
his  private  affairs. 

The  letter  from  Easten  of  Columbiac  Magazines 

—  kindly  enough  —  but  all  hope  of  selling  the  serial 
rights  of  his  novel  gone  glimmering  because  of  it  — 
Easten  was  the  last  chance,  the  last  and  the  best. 
"  If  you  could  see  your  way  to  making  short  stories 
out  of  the  incidents  I  have  named,  I  should  be  very 
much  interested  —  "  but  even  so,  two  short  stories 
won't  bring  in  enough  to  marry  on,  even  if  he  can 
do  them  to  Easten's  satisfaction  —  and  the  novel 
couldn't  come  out  as  a  book  now  till  late  spring  — 
and  Oliver  has  too  many  friends  who  dabble  in 
writing  to  have  any  more  confidence  in  book  roy 
alties  than  he  would  have  in  systems  for  beating  the 
bank  at  roulette.    Well,  that's  over  —  and  a  year's 
work  with  it  —  and  all  the  dreams  he  and  Nancy 
had  of  getting  married  at  once. 

Those  pulley  layouts  have  to  be  fixed  up  some 
time.  What  can  you  say  about  a  pulley  —  what 
can  you  say?  "  The  United  Steel  Frame  Pulley 

—  Oh  Man,  There's  a  Hog  for  Work!  "    Oliver 
turns  the  cheap  phrase  in  his  mind,  hating  its  shoddi- 
ness,  hating  the  fact  that  such  shoddiness  is  the  only 
stuff  with  which  he  can  deal. 

Sanely  considered,  he  supposes  he  hasn't  any  busi 
ness  using  up  a  month's  meagre  savings  and  three 


74  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

small  checks  for  poems  that  he  has  hoarded  since 
April  in  going  out  to  St.  Louis  Friday.  Mr.  Alley 
wasn't  too  pleased  with  letting  him  take  Saturday 
and  half  Monday  off  to  do  it,  too.  But  then  there 
was  that  telegram  ten  days  ago.  "I'd  give  anything 
in  the  world  if  we  could  only  see  each  other  —  "  and 
after  other  letters  unsatisfactorily  brief,  the  letter 
that  came  Monday  "  I  have  such  grand  news,  Ollie 
dear,  at  least  it  may  be  grand  if  it  works  out  — 
but  oh,  dear,  I  do  want  to  see  you  about  it  without 
tangling  it  up  in  letters  that  don't  really  explain. 
Can't  you  make  it  —  even  a  few  hours  would  be  long 
enough  to  talk  it  all  over  —  and  I  do  so  want  to 
see  you  and  really  talk!  Please  wire  me,  if  you 
can." 

Grand  news  —  what  kind  he  wondered  —  and 
dully  thought  that  he  couldn't  see  her,  of  course, 
and  then  suddenly  knew  that  he  must.  After  all, 
there  didn't  seem  to  be  much  use  in  saving  for  the 
sake  of  saving  when  all  the  saving  you  could  pos 
sibly  do  didn't  bring  you  one  real  inch  nearer  to 
what  you  really  wanted.  Apres  moi  le  deluge  — 
apres  ca  le  deluge  —  it  might  even  come  to  that 
this  time,  they  were  both  so  tired  —  and  he  viewed 
the  prospect  as  a  man  mortally  hurt  might  view  the 
gradual  failing  of  sun  and  sky  above  him,  with  hope 
lessness  complete  as  a  cloud  in  that  sky,  but  with 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  75 

heart  and  brain  too  beaten  now  to  be  surprised  with 
either  agony  or  fear.  They  must  see  each  other  — 
they  were  neither  of  them  quiet  people  who  could 
love  forever  at  a  distance  without  real  hope.  Great 
Lord,  if  he  and  Nancy  could  ever  have  one  definite 
basis  to  work  on,  one  definite  hope  of  money  in  the 
future  no  matter  how  far  off  that  was  —  But  the 
present  uncertainty  —  They  couldn't  keep  on  like 
this  —  no  two  people  in  the  world  could  be  expected 
to  keep  on. 

Nancy.  He  is  seeing  Nancy,  the  way  she  half- 
lifts  her  head  when  she  has  been  teasing  and  sud 
denly  becomes  remorseful  and  wants  him  to  know 
how  much  she  does  love  him  instead. 


XIII 

A  HOT  night  in  the  Pullman —  too  hot  to  sleep  in 
anything  but  a  series  of  uneasy  drowsings  and  wak 
ings.  Smell  of  blankets  and  cinders  and  general 
unwashedness  —  noise  of  clacketing  wheels  and  a 
hysterical  whistle  —  anyhow  each  sweaty  hour 
brings  St.  Louis  and  Nancy  nearer.  St.  Nancy,  St. 
Nancy,  St.  Nancy,  says  the  sleepless  racket  of  the 
wheels,  but  the  peevish  electric  fan  at  the  end  of  the 
corridor  keeps  buzzing  to  itself  like  a  fly  caught  in 
a  trap.  "  And  then  I  got  married  you  see  —  and 
then  I  got  married  you  see  —  and  when  you  get 
married  you  aren't  a  free  lance  —  you  aren't  a  free 
lance  —  you're  settled!  " 

It  will  have  to  be  pretty  grand  news  indeed  that 
Nancy  has  to  make  up  for  this  last  week  and  the 
buzz  of  the  electric  fan,  thinks  Oliver,  twisting  from 
one  side  of  his  stuffy  berth  to  the  other  like  an 
uneasy  s'ardine. 


XIV 

"  MORE  beans,  Oliver,"  says  Mrs.  Ellicott  in  a  voice 
like  thin  syrup,  her  "  generous  "  voice.  The  gen 
erous  voice  is  used  whenever  Mrs.  Ellicott  wants 
to  show  herself  a  person  of  incredibly  scrupulous 
fairness  before  that  bodiless  assemblage  of  old 
women  in  black  that  constitute  the  They  who  Say 
—  and  so  it  is  used  to  Oliver  nearly  all  the  time. 

"  No  thank  you,  Mrs.  Ellicott."  Oliver  manages 
to  look  at  her  politely  enough  as  he  speaks  but  then 
his  eyes  go  straight  back  to  Nancy  and  stay  there 
as  if  they  wished  to  be  considered  permanent  at 
tachments.  All  Oliver  has  been  able  to  realize  for 
the  last  two  hours  is  the  mere  declarative  fact  that 
she  is  there. 

"  Nancy!  " 

"  No,  thanks,  mother." 

And  Nancy  in  her  turn  looks  once  swiftly  at  her 
mother,  sitting  there  at  the  end  of  the  table  like  a 
faded  grey  sparrow  whose  feathers  make  it  un 
comfortable.  It  isn't  feathers,  though,  really  —  its 
only  Oliver.  Why  can't  mother  get  reconciled  to 
Oliver  —  why  can't  she  —  and  if  she  can't,  why 

77 


78  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

doesn't  she  come  out  and  say  so  instead  of  trying 
to  be  generous  to  Oliver  when  she  doesn't  want  to 
while  he's  there  and  then  saying  mean  things  when 
he's  away  because  she  can't  help  it? 

"  Stanley?  " 

"  Why,  no,  my  dear  —  no —  yes,  a  few,  perhaps 

—  I  might  reconsider  —  only  a  few,  my  dear,"  — 
his  voice  does  not  do  anything  as  definite  as  cease 

—  it  merely  becomes  ineffectual  as  Mrs.  Ellicott 
heaps  his  plate.    He  then  looks  at  the  beans  as  if 
he  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  where  they  came  from 
but  supposes  as  long  as  they  are  there  they  must 
be  got  away  with  somehow,  and  starts  putting  them 
into  his  mouth  as  mechanically  as  if  they  were  pen 
nies  and  he  a  slot-machine. 

It  is  hot  in  the  Ellicotts'  dining-room  —  the  butter 
was  only  brought  in  a  little  while  ago,  but  already 
it  is  yellow  mush.  There  are  little  drops  on  the 
backs  of  Mr.  Ellicott's  hands.  Oliver  wants  to  help 
Nancy  take  away  the  dishes  and  bring  in  the  fruit 

—  they  have  started  to  make  a  game  out  of  it 
already  when  Mrs.  Ellicott's  voice  enforces  order. 

"  No,  Oliver.  No,  please.  Please  sit  still.  It  is 
so  seldom  we  have  a  guest  that  Nancy  and  I  are 
apt  to  forget  our  manners  — " 

Oliver  looks  to  Nancy  for  guidance,  receives  it 
and  subsides  into  his  chair.  That's  just  the  trouble, 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  79 

he  thinks  rather  peevishly  —  if  only  Mrs.  Ellicott 
would  stop  acting  as  if  he  were  a  guest  —  and  not 
exactly  a  guest  by  choice  at  that  but  one  who  must 
be  the  more  scrupulously  entertained  in  public,  the 
less  he  is  liked  in  private. 

The  fruit.  Mrs.  Ellicott  apologizing  for  it  —  her 
voice  implies  that  she  is  quite  sure  Oliver  doesn't 
think  it  good  enough  for  him  but  that  he  ought  to 
feel  himself  very  lucky  indeed  that  it  isn't  his  deserts 
instead.  Mr.  Ellicott  absent-mindedly  squirting 
orange  juice  up  his  sleeve.  Oliver  and  Nancy 
looking  at  each  other. 

"  Are  you  the  same?"  say  both  kinds  of  eyes, 
intent,  absorbed  with  the  wish  that  has  been 
starved  small  through  the  last  three  months,  but 
now  grows  again  like  'a  smoke-tree  out  of  a  magicked 
jar,  "  Really  the  same  and  really  loving  me  and 
really  glad  to  be  here?  "  But  they  can  get  no 
proper  sort  of  answer  now  —  there  are  too  many 
other  Ellicotts  around,  especially  Mrs.  Ellicott. 

Dinner  is  over  with  coffee  and  cigarettes  that 
Mrs.  Ellicott  has  bought  for  Oliver  because  no  one 
shall  ever  say  she  failed  in  the  smallest  punctilio 
of  hospitality,  though  she  offers  them  to  him  with 
a  gesture  like  that  of  a  missionary  returning  his 
baked-mud  idol  to  a  Bushman  too  far  gone  in  sin 
to  reclaim.  Mr.  Ellicott  smoked  cigarettes  before 


80  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

his  marriage.     For  twenty  years  now  he  has  been 
a  contributing  member  of  the  Anti-Tobacco  League. 

And  now  all  that  Oliver  knows  is  that  unless  he 
can  talk  to  Nancy  soon  and  alone,  he  will  start 
being  very  rude.  It  is  not  that  he  wants  to  be 
rude  —  especially  to  Nancy's  family  —  but  the 
impulse  to  get  everyone  but  Nancy  away  by  any 
means  from  sarcasm  to  homicidal  mania  is  as 
reasonless  and  strong  as  the  wish  to  be  born.  After 
all  he  and  Nancy  have  not  seen  each  other  wakingly 
for  three  months  —  and  there  is  still  her  "  grand 
news  "  to  tell,  the  grandness  of  which  has  seemed 
to  grow  more  and  more  dubious  the  longer  she 
looked  at  Oliver.  Now  is  the  time  for  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ellicott  to  disappear  as  casually  and  completely  as 
clouds  over  the  edge  of  the  sky  and  first  of  all,  not 
to  mention  the  fact  that  they  are  going.  But  Mrs. 
Ellicott  has  far  too  much  tact  ever  to  be  under 
standing. 

She  puts  Mr.  Ellicott's  hat  on  for  him  and  takes 
his  arm  as  firmly  as  if  she  were  police,  and  he  ac 
cepts  the  grasp  with  the  meekness  of  an  old  offender 
who  is  not  quite  sure  what  particular  crime  he  is 
being  arrested  for  this  time  but  has  an  uncomfort 
able  knowledge  that  it  may  be  any  one  of  a  dozen. 

"  Now  we  old  people  are  going  to  leave  you 
children  alone  for  a  little  while  "  she  announces, 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  81 

fair  to  the  last,  her  voice  sweeter  than  ever.  "  We 
know  you  have  such  a  great  many  important  affairs 
to  talk  over  —  particularly  the  splendid  offer  that 
has  just  come  to  Nancy  —  my  little  girl  hasn't  told 
you  about  it  yet,  has  she,  Oliver?  ' 

"  No,  Mrs.  Ellicott." 

"Well,  her  father  and  myself  consider  it  quite 
remarkable  'and  we  have  been  urging  —  very 
strongly  —  her  acceptance,  though  of  course  "  this 
with  a  glace  smile,  "  we  realize  that  we  are  only  her 
parents.  And,  as  Nancy  knows,  it  has  always  been 
our  dearest  wish  to  have  her  decide  matters  affecting 
her  happiness  entirely  herself.  But  I  feel  sure  that 
when  both  of  you  have  talked  it  well  over,  we  can 
trust  you  both  to  come  to  a  most  reasonable  de 
cision."  She  breathes  heavily  and  moves  with  her 
appurtenance  to  the  door,  secure  as  an  ostrich  in 
the  belief  that  Oliver  thinks  her  impartial,  even 
affectionate.  Her  conscientiousness  gives  her  a 
good  deal  of  applause  for  leaving  the  two  young 
people  so  soon  when  they  have  all  one  evening  and 
another  morning  to  be  together  —  but  subcon 
sciously  she  knows  that  she  has  done  her  best  by 
her  recent  little  speech  to  make  this  talking-it-over 
a  walk  through  a  field  full  of  small  pestilent  burrs, 
for  both  Oliver  and  Nancy.  They  say  au  revoir 
very  politely  —  all  four  —  the  door  shuts  on  Mr. 
Ellicott's  meek  back. 


82  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Mrs.  Ellicott  is  not  very  happy,  going  downstairs. 
She  knows  what  has  undoubtedly  happened  the 
moment  the  door  was  shut  —  and  a  little  twinge  of 
something  very  like  the  taste  of  sour  grapes  goes 
through  her  as  she  thinks  of  those  two  young  people 
so  reprehensibly  glad  at  being  even  for  the  moment 
in  each  other's  arms, 


XV 


AN  hour  later  and  still  the  grand  news  hasn't  been 
told.  In  fact  very  little  that  Mrs.  Ellicott  would 
regard  as  either  sensible  or  reasonable  has  hap 
pened  at  all.  Though  they  do  not  know  it  the 
conversation  has  been  oddly  like  that  of  two  dried 
desert-travellers  who  have  suddenly  come  upon 
water  and  for  quite  a  while  afterwards  find  it  hard 
to  think  of  anything  else.  But  finally: 

"  Dearest,  dearest,  what  was  the  grand  news?  " 
says  Oliver  half -drowsily.  "  We  must  talk  it  over, 
dear,  I  suppose,  I  guess,  oh,  we  must  —  oh,  but 
you're  so  sweet  — "  and  he  relapses  again  into 
speechlessness. 

They  are  close  together,  he  and  she  now.  Their 
lips  meet  —  and  meet  —  with  a  sweet  touch  —  with 
a  long  pressure  —  children  being  good  to  each 
other  —  cloud  mingling  with  gleaming  cloud. 

"  Ollie  dear."  Nancy's  voice  comes  from  some 
where  as  far  away  and  still  as  if  she  were  talking 
out  of  a  star.  "  Stop  kissing  me.  I  can't  think 
when  you  kiss  me,  I  can  only  feel  you  be  close. 

83 


84  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

If  you  want  to  hear  about  that  news,  that  is,"  she 
adds,  her  lips  hardly  moving. 

All  that  Oliver  wants  to  do  is  to  hold  her  and 
be  quiet  —  to  make  out  of  the  stuffy  room,  the 
nervous  rushing  of  noise  under  the  window,  the  air 
exhausted  with  heat,  a  place  in  some  measure  peace 
ful,  in  some  measure  retired,  where  they  can  lie 
under  lucent  peace  for  a  moment  as  shells  lie  in 
clear  water  and  not  be  worried  about  anything  any 
more.  But  again,  the  time  they  are  to  have  is  too 
short  —  Oliver  really  must  be  back  Monday  after 
noon  —  already  he  is  unpleasantly  conscious  of  the 
time-table  part  of  his  mind  talking  trains  at  him. 
He  takes  his  arms  from  around  Nancy  —  she  sits 
up  rubbing  her  eyes  with  the  back  of  her  hand  as 
if  to  take  the  dream  that  was  so  glittering  in  them 
away  now  she  and  Oliver  have  to  talk  business- 
affairs. 

"  Oh,  my  hair  —  lucky  it's  bobbed,  that's  all  — 
I'd  have  lost  all  the  hairpins  I  ever  had  in  it  by 
now —  Well,  Ollie  — " 

Her  hand  goes  over  to  his  uneasily,  takes  hold. 
For  a  moment  the  dream  comes  back  and  she  for 
gets  entirely  what  she  was  going  to  say. 

"  Oh  dear!  " 

"  Nancy,  Nancy,  Nancy!  " 

But  she  will  be  firm  about  their  talking. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  85 

"  No,  we  mustn't  really,  we  mustn't,  or  I  can't 
tell  you  anything  at  all.  Well,  it's  this. 

"  I  didn't  tell  you  about  it  at  all  —  didn't  even 
imagine  it  would  come  to  anything.  But  that  old 
geology  specimen  Mrs.  Winters  knows  the  art- 
editor  of  "The  Bazaar"  and  she  happened  to 
say  so  once  when  she  was  here  being  gloomy  with 
mother,  so  I  wormed  a  letter  out  of  her  to  her  friend 
about  me.  And  I  sent  some  things  in  and  the  poor 
man  seemed  to  be  interested  —  at  least  he  said  he 
wanted  to  see  more  —  and  then  we  started  having 
a  real  correspondence.  Until  finally  —  it  was  that 
Friday  because  I  wrote  you  the  letter  right  away 
—  he  goes  and  sends  me  a  letter  saying  to  come  on 
to  New  York  —  that  I  can  have  a  regular  job  with 
them  if  I  want  to,  and  if  they  like  my  stuff  well 
enough,  after  a  couple  of  months  they'll  send  me 
to  Paris  to  do  fashions  over  there  and  pay  me  a 
salary  I  can  more  than  live  on  and  everything!  " 

Nancy  cannot  help  ending  with  a  good  deal  of 
triumph,  though  there  is  anxiety  behind  the  triumph 
as  well.  But  to  Oliver  it  seems  as  if  the  floor  had 
come  apart  under  his  feet. 

When  he  has  failed  so  ludicrously  and  completely, 
Nancy  has  succeeded  and  succeeded  beyond  even 
his  own  ideas  of  success.  She  can  go  to  Paris  and 
tiave  all  they  ever  planned  together,  now;  it  has 


86  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

all  bent  down  to  her  like  an  apple  on  a  swinging 
bough,  all  hers  to  take,  from  lunch  at  Prunier's 
and  sunset  over  the  river  to  that  perfect  little 
apartment  they  know  every  window  of  by  heart 
—  and  he  is  no  nearer  it  than  he  was  eight  months 
ago.  He  has  felt  the  pride  in  her  voice  and  knows 
it  as  most  human  and  justified,  but  because 
he  is  young  and  unreasonable  that  pride  of  hers 
hurts  his  own.  And  then  there  is  something  else. 
All  through  what  she  was  saying  it  was  "  I "  that 
said,  not  "  we." 

"  That's  fine,  Nancy,"  he  says  uncertainly. 
"That's  certainly  fine!  " 

But  she  knows  by  his  voice  in  a  second. 

"  Oh,  Ollie,  Ollie,  of  course  I  won't  take  it  if  it 
makes  you  feel  that  way,  dear.  Why,  I  wouldn't 
do  anything  that  would  hurt  you  —  but  Ollie  I 
don't  see  how  this  can,  how  this  could  change  things 
any  way  at  all.  I  only  thought  it  would  bring 
things  nearer  —  both  of  us  getting  jobs  and  my 
having  a  Paris  one  and  —  " 

Her  voice  might  be  anything  else  in  the  world, 
but  it  is  not  wholly  convinced.  And  its  being  sure 
beyond  bounds  is  the  only  thing  that  could  possibly 
help  Oliver.  He  puts  his  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

"  I  couldn't  do  anything  but  tell  you  to  take  it, 
dearest,  could  I?  When  it's  such  a  real  chance?  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  87 

He  is  hoping  with  illogical  but  none  the  less 
painful  desperation  that  she  will  deny  him.  But 
she  nods  instead. 

"  Well  then,  Nancy  dear,  listen.  If  you  take 
it,  weVe  got  to  face  things,  haven't  we?  " 

She  nods  a  little  rebelliously. 

"  But  why  is  it  so  serious,  Ollie?  "  and  again  her 
voice  is  not  true. 

"  You  know.  Because  I've  failed  —  God  knows 
when  I'll  make  enough  money  for  us  to  get  married 
now  —  with  the  novel  gone  bust  and  everything. 
And  I  haven't  any  right  to  keep  you  like  this  when 
I'm  not  sure  of  ever  being  able  to  marry  you  —  and 
when  you've  got  a  job  like  this  and  can  go  right 
ahead  on  the  things  you've  always  been  crazy  to  do. 
Nancy,  you  want  to  take  it  —  even  if  it  meant  our 
not  getting  married  for  another  year  and  your 
being  away  —  don't  you,  don't  you?  Oh,  Nancy, 
you've  got  to  tell  me  —  it'll  only  bust  everything 
we've  had  already  if  you  don't!  " 

And  now  they  have  come  to  a  point  of  misunder 
standing  that  only  a  trust  as  unreasonable  as  belief 
in  immortality  will  help.  But  that  trust  could 
never  be  bothered  with  the  truth  of  what  it  was 
saying  at  the  moment  —  it  would  have  to  reach  into 
something  deeper  than  any  transitory  feeling  — 
and  they  have  an  unlucky  tradition  of  always 


88  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

trying  to  tell  each  other  what  is  exactly  true. 
And  so  Nancy  nods  because  she  has  to,  though  she 
couldn't  bear  to  put  what  that  means  into  words. 

"  Well,  you  take  it.  And  I'm  awful  sorry  we 
couldn't  make  it  go,  dear.  I  tried  as  hard  as  I  could 
to  make  it  go  but  I  guess  I  didn't  have  the  stuff, 
that's  all." 

He  has  risen  now  and  his  face  seems  curiously 
twisted  —  twisted  as  if  something  hot  and  hurtful 
had  passed  over  it  and  left  it  so  that  it  would  al 
ways  look  that  way.  He  can  hardly  bear  to  look 
at  Nancy,  but  she  has  risen  and  started  talking 
hurriedly  —  fright,  amazement,  concern  and  a  queer 
little  touch  of  relief  all  mixing  in  her  voice. 

"  But  Ollie,  if  you  can't  trust  me  about  some 
thing  as  little  as  that." 

"  It  isn't  that,"  he  says  beatenly  and  she  knows 
it  isn't.  And  knowing,  her  voice  becomes  suddenly 
frightened  —  the  fright  of  a  child  who  has  let  some 
thing  as  fragile  and  precious  as  a  vessel  of  golden 
glass  slip  out  of  her  hands. 

"  But,  Ollie  dear!  But,  Ollie,  I  never  meant  it 
that  way.  But  Ollie,  I  love  you!  " 

He  takes  her  in  his  arms  again  and  they  kiss 
long.  This  time  though  there  is  no  peace  in  the 
kiss,  only  the  lost  passion  of  bodies  tired  beyond 
speech. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  89 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Nancy?" 

Again  she  has  to  decide  —  and  the  truth  that  will 
not  matter  for  more  than  the  hour  wins.  Besides, 
he  has  hurt  her. 

"  Oh,  Ollie,  Ollie,  yes,  but  —  " 

"  You're  not  sure  any  more?  " 

"  It's  different." 

"  It's  not  being  certain?  " 

"  Not  the  way  it  was  at  first  —  but,  Ollie,  we're 
neither  of  us  the  same  —  " 

"  Then  you  aren't  sure?" 

"  I  can't  —  I  haven't  —  oh,  Ollie,  I  don't  know, 
I  don't  know!  " 

"  That  means  you  know." 

Again  the  kiss  but  this  time  their  lips  only  hurt 
against  each  other  —  Oliver  feels  for  a  ghastly 
instant  as  if  he  were  kissing  Nancy  after  she  had 
died.  It  seems  to  him  that  everything  in  him  has 
made  itself  into  a  question  as  discordant  and  un 
answered  as  the  tearing  cry  of  a  puppy  baying  the 
moon,  struck  out  of  his  senses  by  that  swimming 
round  silver  above  him,  ineffably  lustrous,  ineffably 
removed,  none  of  it  ever  coming  to  touch  him  but 
light  too  pale  to  help  at  all.  He  is  holding  a  girl 
in  his  arms  —  he  can  feel  her  body  against  him  — 
but  it  is  not  Nancy  he  is  holding  —  it  never  will 
be  Nancy  any  more. 


90  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

He  releases  her  and  starts  walking  up  and  down 
in  a  series  of  short,  uneasy  strides,  turning  mechan 
ically  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  chairs.  Words 
come  out  of  him,  words  he  never  imagined  he  could 
ever  say,  he  thinks  dizzily  that  it  would  feel  like 
this  if  he  were  invisibly  bleeding  to  death  —  that 
would  come  the  same  way  in  fiery  spurts  and  pauses 
that  tore  at  the  body. 

"  Don't  you  see,  dear,  don't  you  see?  It's  been 
eight  months  now  and  we  aren't  any  nearer  getting 
married  than  we  were  at  first  and  it  isn't  honest 
to  say  we  will  be  soon  any  more  —  I  can't  see  any 
prospect  —  I've  failed  in  everything  I  thought  would 
go  —  and  we  can't  get  married  on  my  job  for  years 
—  I'm  not  good  enough  at  it  —  and  I  won't  have 
you  hurt  —  I  won't  have  you  tied  to  me  when  it 
only  means  neither  of  us  doing  what  we  want  and 
both  of  us  getting  older  and  our  work  not  done. 
Oh,  I  love  you,  Nancy  —  if  there  was  any  hope  at 
all  I'd  go  down  on  my  knees  to  ask  you  to  keep  on 
but  there  isn't  —  they've  beaten  us  —  they've 
beaten  us — all  the  fat  old  people  who  told  us  we 
were  too  poor  and  too  young.  All  we  do  is  go  on 
like  this  both  of  us  getting  worked  up  whenever  we 
see  each  other  and  both  of  us  hurting  each  other 
and  nothing  happening  —  Oh,  Nancy,  I  thought  we 
could  help  each  other  always  and  now  we  can't  even 


AND  THEN  THE  QUEER  MAN  HAD  GONE  OUT 
OF  THE  DOOR 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  91 

a  little  any  more.  You  remember  when  we  promised 
that  if  either  of  us  stopping  loving  each  other  we'd 
tell?  " 

Nancy  is  very  silent  and  rather  white. 

"  Yes,  Ollie." 

"Well,  Nancy?" 

"Well  —  " 

They  look  at  each  other  as  if  they  were  watching 
each  other  burn. 

"  Good-by  darling,  darling,  darling!  "  says  Ollie 
through  lips  like  a  marionette's. 

Then  Nancy  feels  him  take  hold  of  her  again  — 
the  arms  of  somebody  else  in  Oliver's  body  —  and  a 
cold  mouth  hurting  her  cheek  —  and  still  she  cannot 
speak.  And  then  the  queer  man  who  was  walking 
up  and  down  so  disturbingly  has  gone  out  of  the 
door. 


XVI 

OLIVER  finds  himself  walking  along  a  long  street 
in  a  city.  It  is  not  a  distinguished  street  by  any 
means  —  there  are  neither  plate-glass  shops  nor 
'  residences  '  on  it  —  just  an  ordinary  street  of  little 
stores  and  small  houses  and  occasionally  an  apart 
ment  building  named  for  a  Pullman  car.  In  a 
good  many  houses  the  lights  are  out  already  —  it 
is  nearly  eleven  o'clock  and  this  part  of  St.  Louis 
goes  to  bed  early  —  only  the  drugstores  and  the 
moving-picture  theatres  are  still  flaringly  awake. 
His  eyes  read  the  sign  that  he  passes  mechanically, 
"Dr.  Edwin  K.  Buffinton  —  Chiropractor,"  "  Mc- 
Murphy  and  Kane's,"  "The  Rossiter,"  with  its 
pillars  that  look  as  if  they  had  been  molded  out  of 
marbled  soap. 

Thought.  Memory.  Pain.  Pain  pressing  down 
on  his  eyeballs  like  an  iron  thumb,  twisting  wires 
around  his  forehead  tighter  and  tighter  till  it's 
funny  the  people  he  passes  don't  see  the  patterns 
they  make  on  his  skin. 

Somebody  talking  in  his  mind,  quite  steadily 
and  flatly,  repeating  and  repeating  itself  like  a 

92 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  93 

piece  of  cneap  music  played  over  and  over  again 
on  a  scratched  phonograph  record,  talking  in  the 
voice  that  is  a  composite  of  a  dozen  voices;  a  fat 
man  comfortable  on  a  club  lounge  laying  down  the 
law  as  if  he  were  carefully  smearing  the  shine  out 
of  something  brilliant  with  a  flaccid  heavy  finger; 
a  thin  sour  woman  telling  children  playing  together 
"  don't,  don't,  don't,"  in  the  whine  of  a  nasty  nurse. 

"  All  for  the  best,  you  know  —  all  for  the  best, 
we're  all  of  us  sure  of  that.  Love  doesn't  last  — 
doesn't  last  —  doesn't  last  —  as  good  fish  in  the  sea 
as  ever  were  caught  out  of  it  —  nobody's  heart  could 
break  at  twenty-five.  You  think  you're  happy  and 
proud  —  you  think  you're  lovers  and  friends  —  but 
that  doesn't  last,  doesn't  last,  doesn't  last  —  none 
of  it  lasts  at  all." 

If  he  only  weren't  so  tired  he  could  do  some 
thing.  But  instead  he  feels  only  as  a  man  feels 
who  has  been  drinking  all  day  in  the  instant  before 
complete  intoxication  —  his  body  is  as  distinct  from 
him  as  if  it  were  walking  behind  him  with  his 
shadow  —  all  the  colors  he  sees  seem  exaggeratedly 
dull  or  brilliant,  he  has  little  sense  of  distance,  the 
next  street  corner  may  be  a  block  or  a  mile  away, 
it  is  all  the  same,  his  feet  will  take  him  there,  his 
feet  that  keep  going  mechanically,  one  after  the 
other,  one  after  the  other,  as  if  they  marched  to  a 


94  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

clock.  There  is  no  feeling  in  him  that  stays  long 
enough  to  be  called  by  any  definite  word  —  there 
is  only  a  streaming  parade  of  sensations  like  blind 
men  running  through  mist,  shapes  that  come  out  of 
fog  and  sink  back  to  it,  without  sight,  without  num 
ber,  without  name,  with  only  continual  hurry  of 
feet  to  tell  of  their  presence. 

A  slinky  man  comes  up  at  his  elbow  and  starts 
to  talk  out  of  the  side  of  his  mouth. 

"  Say,  mister  —  " 

"  Oh,  go  to  hell!  "  and  the  man  fades  away  again, 
without  even  looking  startled,  to  mutter  "  Well,  you 
needn'  be  so  damn  peeved  about  it  —  I'll  say  you 
needn'  be  so  damn  peeved  —  whatcha  think  you 
are,  anyhow  —  Marathon  Mike?"  as  Oliver's  feet 
take  Oliver  swiftly  away  from  him. 

Nancy.  The  first  time  he  ever  kissed  her  when 
it  was  question  and  answer  with  neither  of  them 
sure.  And  then  getting  surer  and  surer  —  and 
then  when  they  kissed.  Never  touching  Nancy, 
never.  Never  seeing  her  again  never  any  more. 
That  song  the  Glee  Club  used  to  harmonize  over  — 
what  was  it? 

We  won't  go  there  any  more, 

We  won't  go  there  any  more 

We  won't  go  there  any  mo-o-ore  — 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  95 

He  lifts  his  eyes  for  a  moment.  A  large  blue 
policeman  is  looking  at  him  fixedly  from  the  other 
side  of  the  street,  his  nightstick  twirling  in  a  very- 
prepared  sort  of  way.  For  an  instant  Oliver  sees 
himself  going  over  and  asking  that  policeman  for 
his  helmet  to  play  with.  That  would  be  the  cream 
of  the  jest  —  the  very  cream  —  to  end  the  evening 
in  combat  with  a  large  blue  policeman  after  having 
all  you  wanted  in  life  break  under  you  suddenly 
like  new  ice. 

He  had  been  walking  for  a  very  long  time.  He 
ought  to  go  to  bed.  He  had  a  hotel  somewhere  if 
he  could  only  think  where.  The  policeman  might 
know. 

The  policeman  saw  a  young  man  with  staring 
eyes  coming  toward  him,  remarked  "  hophead  "  in 
ternally  and  played  with  his  nightstick  a  little  more. 
The  nearer  Oliver  came  the  larger  and  more  un 
sympathetic  the  policeman  seemed  to  him.  Still, 
if  you  couldn't  remember  what  your  hotel  was  your 
self  it  was  only  sensible  to  ask  guidance  on  the 
question.  His  mind  reacted  suddenly  toward  gro- 
tesqueness.  One  had  to  be  very  polite  to  large 
policemen.  The  politeness  should,  naturally,  in 
crease  as  the  square  of  the  policeman. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  could  tell  me  where  my  hotel 
is,  officer?  "  Oliver  began. 


96  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  What  hotel?  "  said  the  policeman  uninterest- 
edly.  Oliver  noticed  with  an  inane  distinctness 
that  he  had  started  to  swirl  his  nightstick  as  a  large 
blue  cat  might  switch  its  tail.  He  wondered  if  it 
would  be  tactful  to  ask  him  if  he  had  ever  been  a 
drum  major.  Then  he  realized  that  the  policeman 
had  asked  him  a  question  —  courtesy  demanded  a 
prompt  response. 

"  What?  "  said  Oliver. 

"I  said  'What  hotel?'"  The  policeman  was 
beginning  to  be  annoyed. 

Oliver  started  to  think  of  his  hotel.  It  was  im 
becile  not  to  remember  the  name  of  your  own  hotel 
—  even  when  your  own  particular  material  and 
immaterial  cosmos  had  been  telescoped  like  a  toy 
train  in  the  last  three  hours.  The  Rossiter  was  all 
that  he  could  think  of. 

"  The  Rossiter,"  he  said  firmly. 

"  No  hotel  Rossiter  in  this  town,"  The  police 
man's  nightstick  was  getting  more  and  more  irri 
tated.  "  Rossiter 's  a  lotta  flats.  You  live  there?  " 

"  No.    I  live  in  a  hotel." 

"Well,  what  hotel?" 

"  Oh,  I  tell  you  I  don't  remember,"  said  Oliver 
vaguely.  "  A  big  one  with  a  lot  of  electric  lights." 

The  policeman's  face  became  suddenly  very  red. 

"Well,  you  move  on,  buddy!  "  he  said  in  a  tone 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  97 

of  hoarse  displeasure.  "  You  move  right  on!  You 
don't  come  around  me  with  any  of  your  funny 
cracks  —  I  know  whatsa  matter  with  you,  all  right, 
all  right.  I  know  whatsa  matter  with  you." 

"  So  do  I."  Oliver  was  smiling  a  little  now,  the 
whole  scene  was  so  arabesque.  "  I  want  to  go  to 
my  hotel." 

"  You  move  on.  You  move  on  quick!  "  said  the 
policeman  vastly.  "  It's  a  long  walk  down  to  the 
hoosegow  and  /  don't  want  to  take  you  there." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  there,"  said  Oliver.  "  But 
my  hotel  —  " 

"  Quit  arguin' "!  said  the  policeman  in  a  bark 
like  a  teased  bulldog. 

Oliver  turned  and  walked  two  steps  away.  Then 
he  turned  again.  After  all  why  not?  The  im 
portant  part  of  his  life  was  over  anyhow  —  and 
before  the  rest  of  it  finished  he  might  be  able  to 
tell  one  large  policeman  just  what  he  thought  of 
him. 

"Why,  you  big  blue  boob,"  he  began  abruptly 
with  a  sense  of  pleasant  refreshment  better  than 
drink,  "You  great  heaving  purple  ice  wagon  —  " 
and  then  he  was  stopped  abruptly  for  the  policeman 
was  taking  the  necessary  breath  away. 


XVII 

ABOUT  which  time  Nancy  had  finished  crying  — 
raging  at  herself  all  the  time,  she  hated  to  cry 
so  —  and  was  sitting  up  straight  on  the  couch  look 
ing  at  the  door  which  Oliver  had  shut  as  if  by  looking 
it  very  hard  indeed  she  could  make  it  turn  into 
Oliver. 

It  couldn't  end  this  way.  If  it  did  it  just  meant 
that  all  the  last  year  wasn't  real  —  hadn't  any  more 
part  in  reality  than  charity  theatricals.  And  they'd 
both  of  them  been  so  sure  that  it  was  the  chief 
reality  that  they  had  ever  known. 

He  wasn't  reasonable.  She  hadn't  wanted  the 
darned  old  job,  she'd  wanted  to  marry  him,  but 
as  long  as  they  hadn't  seemed  to  get  very  far  in  the 
last  eight  months  when  he'd  been  trying  to  work 
it  —  why  couldn't  she  try  — 

Then  '  Oh  Nancy,  be  honest!  '  to  herself.  No, 
that  wasn't  true.  She'd  wanted  the  job,  wanted  to 
get  it,  hadn't  thought  about  Oliver  particularly  when 
she'd  tried  for  it  except  to  be  a  little  impatient  with 
him  for  not  using  more  judgment  when  he  picked 

98 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  99 

out  his  job.  Did  that  mean  that  she  didn't  love 
him?  Oh  Lord,  it  was  all  so  mixed  up. 

Starting  out  so  clearly  at  first  and  everything 
being  so  perfect  —  and  then  the  last  four  months 
and  both  getting  tireder  and  tireder  and  all  the 
useless  little  misunderstandings  that  made  you 
wonder  how  could  you  if  you  really  cared.  And 
now  this. 

For  an  instant  of  mere  relief  from  strain  Nancy 
saw  herself  in  Paris,  studying  as  she  had  always 
wanted  to  study,  doing  some  real  work,  all  Paris 
hers  to  play  with  like  a  big  gray  stone  toy,  never 
having  to  worry  about  loving,  about  being  loved, 
about  people  you  loved.  Being  free.  Like  taking 
off  your  hot,  hot  clothes  and  lying  in  water  when 
you  were  too  hot  and  tired  even  to  think  of  sleeping. 
Oliver  too  —  she'd  leave  him  free  —  he'd  really 
work  better  without  her  —  without  having  her  to 
take  care  of  and  make  money  for  and  worry  about 
always  — 

The  mind  turned  the  other  way.  But  what  would 
doing  anything  be  like  with  Oliver  out  of  it  when 
doing  things  together  had  been  all  that  mattered 
all  the  last  year? 

They  couldn't  decide  things  like  this  on  a  prickly 
hot  August  night  when  both  of  them  were  nearly 
dead  with  fatigue.  It  wasn't  real.  Even  after  Oliver 


ioo  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

had  shut  the  door  she'd  been  sure  he'd  come  back, 
though  she  hoped  he  wouldn't  just  while  she  was 
crying;  she  never  had  been,  she  thought  viciously, 
one  of  those  happy  people  who  look  like  rain-god 
desses  when  they  cry. 

He  must  come  back.  She  shut  her  eyes  and  told 
him  to  as  hard  as  she  could.  But  he  didn't. 

All  very  well  to  be  proud  and  dignified  when  both 
of  you  lived  near  each  other.  But  Oliver  was  going 
back  to  New  York  tomorrow  —  and  if  he  went  back 
while  they  were  still  like  this  —  She  knew  his  train 
—  the  ten  seven. 

She  tried  being  proud  in  a  dozen  different  ex 
pressive  attitudes  for  ten  minutes  or  so:  Then  she 
suddenly  relaxed  and  went  over  to  the  telephone, 
smiling  rather  ashamedly  at  herself. 

"  Hotel  Rosario?  " 

"  Yes. " 

"  Can  I  speak  to  Mr.  Oliver  Crowe?  He  is 
staying  there  isn't  he?  " 

A  pause  full  of  little  jingling  sounds. 

"  Yes,  he's  staying  here  but  he  hasn't  come  in 
yet  this  evening.  Do  you  wish  to  leave  a  mes 
sage?  " 

Nancy  hesitates. 

"  N-no."    That  would  be  just  a  little  too  humble. 

"  Or  the  name  of  the  party  calling?  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  101 

He  will  know,  of  course.  Still,  had  she  better 
say?  Then  she  remembers  the  need  of  punishing 
him  just  a  little.  After  all  —  it  is  hardly  fair  she 
should  go  all  the  way  toward  making  up  when  he 
hasn't  even  started. 

"  No  —  no  name.  But  tell  him  somebody  called, 
please." 

"  Very  well." 

And  Nancy  goes  back  to  wonder,  if  the  reason 
Oliver  hasn't  gone  back  to  the  hotel  is  that  he  is 
returning  here  in  an  appropriate  suit  of  sackcloth. 
She  hopes  he  will  come  before  mother  and  father 
get  back. 

But  even  while  she  is  hoping  it,  the  large  blue 
policeman  is  saying  something  about  "  'Sturbance  of 
the  peace  "  to  the  desk-sergeant,  and  Oliver  is  going 
down  on  the  blotter  as  Donald  Richardson. 


XVIII 

"  You  simply  must  not  worry  yourself  about  it  so, 
Nancy,  my  darling,"  says  Mrs.  Ellicott  brightly. 
"  Lpvers'  quarrek  are  only  lovers'  quarrels  you 
know  and  they 'seem  very  small  indeed  to  people 
a  little  older  and  more  experienced  though  I  dare 
say  they  may  loom  terribly  large  just  at  present. 
Why  your  father  and  myself  used  to  have  —  ahem 
— our  little  times  over  trifles,  darling,  mere  trifles  " 
and  Mrs.  Ellicott  takes  a  pinch  of  air  between 
finger  and  thumb  as  if  to  display  it  as  a  specimen 
of  those  mere  trifles  over  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Elli 
cott  used  to  become  proudly  enraged  at  each  other 
in  the  days  before  she  had  faded  him  so  completely. 
Nancy,  after  a  night  of  intensive  sleeplessness 
broken  only  by  dreams  of  seeing  Oliver  being 
married  to  somebody  else  in  the  lobby  of  the  Hotel 
Rosario  can  only  wonder  rather  dully  when  it  could 
ever  have  been  that  poor  father  was  allowed  enough 
initiative  of  his  own  to  take  even  the  passive  part 
in  a  quarrel  over  a  trifle  and  why  mother  thinks 
the  prospect  implied  in  her  speech  of  her  daugh 
ter's  marriage  being  like  unto  hers  can  be  so  com- 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  103 

forting.  Nancy  made  one  New  Year's  resolution 
the  second  day  of  her  engagement,  "  If  I  ever  find 
mjyself  starting  to  act  to  Ollie  the  way  mother 
does  to  father  I'll  simply  have  to  leave  him  and 
never  see  him  again."  But  Mrs.  Ellicott  goes  on. 

"  If  Oliver  is  at  all  the  sort  of  young  man  we 
must  hope  he  is,  he  will  certainly  come  and  apolo 
gize  at  once.  And  if  he  should  not  —  well  Nancy, 
my  little  girl,"  she  adds  hieroglyphically  "  there 
are  many  trials  that  seem  hard  to  bear  at  first 
which  prove  true  blessings  later  when  we  see  of 
what  false  materials  they  were  first  composed." 

Mr.  Ellicott  thinks  it  is  time  for  him  to  go  to 
the  office.  It  is  five  minutes  ahead  of  his  usual 
time  but  Mrs.  Ellicott  has  been  looking  at  him 
all  the  way  through  her  last  speech  until  he  feels 
uneasily  that  he  must  be  composed  of  very  false 
material  indeed.  He  stops  first  though  to  give  an 
ineffective  pat  to  Nancy's  shoulder. 

"Cheer  up,  Chick,"  he  says  kindly.  "Always 
sun  somewhere  you  know,  so  don't  treat  the  poor 
boy  too  hard,"  and  he  shuffles  rapidly  away  before 
his  wife  can  look  all  the  way  through  him  for  the 
vague  heresy  implicit  in  his  sentence. 

"  It  is  all  very  well  for  your  father  to  say  such 
things,  but,  Nancy,  darling,  you  shall  not  be  put 
upon  by  Tramplers  "  proceeds  Mrs.  Ellicott  in  her 


104  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

most  cryptically  perfect  tones.  "  Oliver  is  a  man 
—  he  must  apologize.  A  man,  I  say,  though  little 
more  than  a  boy.  And  otherwise  you  would  now 
be  pursuing  your  Art  in  Paris  due  to  dear  kind 
Mrs.  Winters  who  has  always  stood  our  truest 
friend  and  now  this  other  opportunity  has  come 
also  but  I  would  never  be  the  first  to  say  that  even 
such  should  not  be  sacrificed  most  gladly  for  the 
love  of  a  true  kind  husband  and  dear  little  children 
though  marriage  is  but  a  lottery  at  best  and  es 
pecially  when  affections  are  fixed  upon  their  object 
in  early  youth." 

All  this  without  a  pause,  pouring  over  the 
numbed  parts  of  Nancy's  mind  like  thin  sweetish 
oil.  Nancy  considers  wearily.  Yes,  Oliver  should 
apologize.  Yes,  it  is  only  being  properly  dignified 
not  to  call  up  the  Rosario  again  to  find  if  he  is  there. 
Yes,  if  he  truly  loves  her,  he  will  call  —  he  will 
come —  and  the  clock  hands  are  marching  on  toward 
ten-seven  and  his  train  like  stiff  little  soldiers  and 
mother  is  talking,  talking  — 

"  Not  that  I  wish  or  have  wished  to  influence  your 
mind  in  any  way,  my  darling,  but  environment  and 
propinquity  count  for  mountains  in  such  first  youth 
ful  attachments  and  sometimes  when  we  are  older  to 
be  looked  back  upon  with  such  regret.  Nor  would 
I  ever  have  Words  Spoken  that  should  seem  to 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  105 

injure  the  choice  of  my  daughter's  heart  —  but  when 
young  men  cannot  provide  even  Hovels  for  their 
fiancees  a  reasonable  time  having  been  given,  it  is 
only  just  that  they  should  release  them  and  you 
looking  like  death  all  these  last  two  months.  Never 
wishing  that  my  own  daughter  should  act  in  Ways 
dishonorable  in  the  slightest  but  time  is  the  Test 
in  such  matters  and  if  such  tests  are  not  to  be 
survived  it  is  best  they  should  end  and  no  one 
can  deny  that  the  young  man  talks  very  queerly 
and  was  often  quite  disrespectful  to  you  though 
you  may  say  that  was  joking  but  it  would  not 
have  been  joking  in  my  day  and  young  men  with 
queer  nervous  eyes  and  hands  I  never  have  nor 
will  quite  trust  —  " 

But  it's  Oliver  that's  doing  this,  Oliver  who 
turned  funny  and  white  when  she  cut  her  finger  with 
the  breadknife  making  sandwiches  and  wanted  her 
to  put  all  sorts  of  things  on  it.  Oliver  who  was  al 
ways  so  sweet  when  she  was  unreasonable  and  al 
ways  the  first  to  come  looking  unhappy  after  they'd 
quarrelled  even  a  little  and  say  it  was  all  his  fault. 
Why  the  very  last  letter  she  got  from  him  was  the 
one  that  said  if  she  ever  stopped  loving  him  he 
knew  he'd  die. 

"And  when  things  are  ended  it  is  better  that 
such  things  should  be  though  doubtless  not  neces- 


io6  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

sary  to  put  an  announcement  in  the  paper  yet 
since  God  in  his  infinite  wisdom  arranges  all  things 
for  the  best.  And  with  such  a  splendid  position 
opening  before  her  it  would  be  only  dignified  to 
bring  the  young  man  to  his  senses  for  it  would  not 
be  right  to  let  unreasonable  young  men  stand  in 
the  way  of  advantages  offered  by  Foreign  Travel 
and  study  and  these  things  are  soon  forgotten,  my 
dear,  and  if  nervous  young  men  will  not  admit  like 
gentlemen  that  they  are  in  the  wrong  when  only 
engaged  what  kind  of  husbands  will  they  make 
when  married  forever?  And  is  not  a  broken  en 
gagement  better  than  lifelong  unhappiness  when 
there  are  so  many  too  many  sinful  people  divorcing 
each  other  every  day  and  all  men  who  write  for 
their  living  use  stimulants,  my  dear,  such  is  literary 
history  and  my  dearest  have  your  cry  out  on 
mother's  shoulder." 

The  sweetish  oil  has  risen  about  Nancy  relent 
lessly  —  it  is  up  to  her  waist  now  and  still  it  keeps 
talking  and  flowing  and  creeping  higher.  Very 
soon  when  the  fatter  black  soldier  on  the  clock- 
face  has  only  hitched  himself  -along  a  little,  it  will 
be  over  her  head  and  the  roving  Nancy,  the  spark 
ling  Nancy,  the  Nancy  that  fell  in  love  will  be 
under  it  like  a  calm  body,  never  to  rise  or  run  or 
be  kissed  with  light  seeking  kisses  on  the  soft  of 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  107 

her  throat  again.  There  will  only  be  a  dignified 
Nancy,  a  sensible  Nancy,  a  Nancy  going  to  Paris 
to  study  and  be  successful,  a  Nancy  who,  sooner 
or  later  will  marry  "  Some  good,  clean  man." 

A  little  tinkle  of  chimes  from  the  clock.  Six 
minutes  more.  The  Nancy  that  was  stands  on 
tiptoe,  every  eager  and  tameless  bit  of  her  hoping, 
hoping.  If  mother  weren't  there  that  Nancy  would 
have  been  at  the  telephone  an  hour  ago  in  spite  of 
young  people's  pride  and  old  people's  self-respect 
and  all  the  thousand  and  one  knife-faced  fetishes 
that  all  the  correct  and  common-sensible  people 
hug  close  and  worship  because  they  hurt. 

She  can  see  the  train  sliding  out  of  the  station. 
Ollie  is  in  it  and  his  face  is  stiff  with  surprise  and 
unforgiveness  like  the  face  of  some  horrible  stranger 
you  went  up  to  and  spoke  to  by  mistake,  thinking 
he  was  your  friend.  By  the  time  the  train  is  well 
started  he  will  have  begun  talking  to  that  fluffy  girl 
in  the  other  half  of  the  Pullman  —  no,  that  isn't 
worthy,  he  wouldn't  —  but  oh  Ollie,  Ollie! 

Half  an  hour  later  the  telephone  rings.  Nancy 
is  finishing  the  breakfast  dishes  —  her  hands  jump 
as  she  hears  it  —  a  slippery  plate  slops  back  into 
the  water  and  as  she  dives  after  it  she  realizes  pain 
fully  that  the  new  water  is  much  too  hot. 

"  What  is  it,  mother?  " 


1 08  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

For  an  instant  the  Nancy  who  has  no  real  self- 
respect  is  talking  again. 

"  Just  a  minute,  Isabella.  Mrs.  Winters,  dear. 
Don't  you  want  to  speak  to  her?  " 

"  Oh." 

Then  — 

"  Not  right  now.  When  I'm  through  with  these. 
But  will  you  ask  her  if  she's  going  to  be  in  this 
afternoon  —  I  want  to  tell  her  about  my  taking 
the  New  York  job." 

Satisfied  oil  pouring  back  into  the  telephone  with 
a  pleased,  thin  chuckle. 

"  Yes,  Nancy  has  decided.  Well,  dear,  I  think 
she  had  better  tell  you  herself — " 

Nancy  is  looking  dolefully  down  at  her  thumb. 
Foolish  not  to  have  cooled  off  that  water  a  little  — 
she  has  really  burned  herself.  For  an  instant  she 
hears  Oliver's  voice  in  her  ears,  low  and  concerned, 
sees  Oliver  kissing  it,  making  it  well.  But  these 
things  don't  happen  to  sensible,  self-respecting 
modern  girls  with  experienced  mothers,  especially 
when  all  the  former  have  now  quite  made  up  their 
own  minds. 


XIX 

IT  was  with  some  nightmare  surprise  that  Oliver 
on  waking  regarded  his  tidy  cell.  Then  he  re 
membered  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  yesterday 
evening  with  all  that  belonged  to  it  kept  hurting 
wherever  it  was  that  most  of  him  lived  with  the 
stiff  repeating  ache  of  a  nerve  struck  again  and 
again  by  the  same  soft  hammer,  he  couldn't  help 
laughing  a  little.  The  popular  college  remedy  for 
disprized  love  had  always  been  an  instantaneous 
mingling  of  conflicting  alcohols  —  calling  a  large 
policeman  a  big  blue  boob  seemed  to  produce  the 
same  desired  result  of  bringing  one  to  one's  senses 
by  first  taking  one  completely  out  of  them  without 
the  revolving  stomach  and  fuzzed  mind  of  the  first 
instance.  He  tried  to  think  of  yesterday  evening 
airily.  Silly  children  quarreling  about  things  that 
didn't  matter  at  all.  Of  course  Nancy  should  have 
the  job  if  she  wanted — of  course  he'd  apologize, 
apologize  like  Ecclesiastes  even  for  being  alive  at 
all  if  it  was  necessary  —  and  then  everything  would 
be  all  right,  just  all  right  and  fixed. 

109 


I  io  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

But  the  airy  attitude  somehow  failed  to  com 
fort —  it  was  a  little  too  much  like  trying  to 
shuffle  a  soft-shoe  clog  on  a  new  grave.  Nancy 
had  been  unreasonable.  Nancy  had  said  or  hadn't 
denied  that  she  wasn't  sure  she  loved  him  any 
more.  He  had  released  her  from  the  engagement 
and  told  her  good-by.  He  stared  at  the  facts  — 
they  sprang  up  in  front  of  him  like  choking  thorns 
—  thorns  he  had  to  clear  away  with  his  hands 
before  he  could  even  touch  Nancy  again.  Was  he 
sure  —  even  now?  All  the  airiness  dropped  from 
him  like  a  clown's  false  face.  As  he  thought 
of  what  would  happen  if  Nancy  had  really  meant 
it  about  not  loving  him,  it  seemed  to  him  that  some 
body  had  taken  away  the  pit  of  his  stomach  and 
left  nothing  in  its  place  but  air. 

Anyhow  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to  get  out  of 
this  place  —  he  examined  the  neat  bars  in  the  door 
approvingly  and  wondered  how  the  devil  you  acted 
when  you  wanted  to  be  let  out.  There  wasn't 
any  way  of  opening  a  conversation  about  it  with 
no  one  to  talk  to  —  and  the  corridor  was  merely  a 
length  of  empty  steel  —  and,  damn  it,  his  train  left 
at  Ten  Seven  and  he  had  to  see  Nancy  and  explain 
everything  in  the  world  before  it  left  —  and  if  he 
didn't  get  back  to  New  York  in  time  he  might 
lose  his  job.  There  must  be  some  way  of  explain- 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  in 

ing  to  the  people  in  charge  that  he  hadn't  done  any 
thing  but  kid  a  policeman  —  that  he  must  get  out. 

He  went  over  to  the  door  and  tried  it  tentatively 
—  no  inside  doorknob,  of  course,  this  wasn*t  a 
hotel.  He  looked  through  the  bars  —  nothing  but 
corridor  and  the  cell  on  the  other  side.  Should  he 
call?  For  an  instant  the  fantastic  idea  of  crying 
"Waiter!  "  or  "Please  send  up  my  breakfast!  " 
tugged  at  him  hard,  but  fantasy  had  got  him  into 
much  too  much  trouble  as  it  was,  he  reflected 
savagely.  It  made  you  feel  ridiculously  self-con 
scious,  standing  behind  bars  like  this  and  shouting 
into  emptiness.  Still  he  had  to  get  out.  He 
cleared  his  throat. 

"  Hey,"  he  remarked  in  a  pleasant  conversa 
tional  tone.  "  Hey!  " 

No  answer,  he  grew  bolder. 

"  Hey!  "  This  time  the  conversational  tone  was 
italicized.  A  rustle  of  voices  somewhere  rewarded 
him  —  that  must  be  people  talking.  Well,  if  they 
talked,  they  could  listen. 

"  HEY!  "  and  now  his  voice  was  emphatic 
enough  for  headline  capitals. 

The  rustle  of  voices  ceased.  There  was  a  mo 
ment  of  stupefied  silence.  Then, 

"SHUT  UP!  "  came  from  the  end  of  the  cor 
ridor  hi  a  roar  that  made  Oliver  feel  as  if  he  had 


ii2  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

been  cooing.  The  roar  irritated  him  —  they  might 
be  a  little  more  mannerly.  He  clutched  the  bars 
and  discovered  to  his  pleased  surprise  that  they 
would  rattle.  He  shook  them  as  hard  as  he  could 
like  a  monkey  asking  for  peanuts. 

"Hey  there!  I  want  to  get  out!  "  and  though 
he  tried  to  make  his  voice  as  impressive  as  possible 
it  seemed  to  him  to  pipe  like  a  canary's  in  that 
long  steel  emptiness. 

"  I've  got  to  catch  a  train!  "  he  added  desperately 
and  then  had  to  stuff  his  coat  sleeve  into  his  mouth 
to  keep  from  spoiling  his  dramatics  with  most  un 
seasonable  mirth. 

There  were  noises  from  the  end  of  the  corridor  — 
the  noises  of  strong  men  at  bitter  war  with  something 
stronger  than  they,  strange  rumblings  and  snortings 
and  muffled  whoops.  Then  the  voice  came  again 
and  this  time  its  words  were  slow  and  deliberately 
spaced  so  as  to  give  it  time  to  master  whatever 
rocked  it  between  whiles. 

"  Say  —  you  —  humorist "  said  the  voice  and 
here  it  rose  sharply  into  an  undignified  squawk  of 
laughter,  "  You  —  inner  cent  —  child  —  comedian 

—  you  —  Charlie  —  Chaplin  —  of  the  —  hoosegow 

—  you  shut  up  —  or  I'll  come  down  there  and  — 
bend  —  something  —  over  —  your  merry  little  face 

—  understand?  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  113 

"  Yes  sir,"  said  Oliver  subduedly. 

"  Ah  right.  Now  go  bye-bye  —  mama'll  call  you 
when  she's  ready  to  take  you  walking  "  then  ex 
plosively  "  I  got  to  catch  a  train!  Oh  Holy  Mike!  " 

Oliver  left  the  window  and  went  back  toward 
his  bunk,  considerably  chastened.  As  he  did  so  a 
bundle  of  second-hand  clothes  on  the  floor  rolled 
over  and  disclosed  a  red  and  unshaven  face. 

"Wup!  "  said  Oliver  —  he  had  almost  stepped 
on  it. 

"  Wha'  ?  "  said  the  bundle,  opening  sick  eyes. 

"  Oh  nothing.     I  only  said  good  morning." 

"  Wha'?  " 

"  Good  morning." 

"  Wha'?  " 

"  Good  morning." 

After  incredible  difficulties,  the  bundle  attained 
a  sitting  position. 

"  You  kid'n  me?  "  it  demanded  thickly,  looking 
at  Oliver  with  as  much  surprise  as  if  he  had  just 
grown  up  out  of  the  floor  like  a  plant. 

"Oh  no.    No." 

"  You're  nah  kid'n  me?  " 

"  No." 

"  Ah  ri'.     'S  countersign.     Pass.    FrenV 

It  attempted  a  military  gesture  but  succeeded 
merely  in  hitting  its  mouth  with  its  hand.  It  then 


ii4  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

looked  at  the  hand  as  if  the  latter  had  done  it  on 
purpose  and  became  sunk  in  profound  cogitation. 

"  Not  feeling  very  well  today?  "  Oliver  ventured. 

It  looked  at  him. 

"  Well?  "  it  said  briefly.  Then,  after  a  silence 
devoted  to  trying  to  find  where  its  hands  were. 

"  Hoosh." 

"  What?  "  said  Oliver. 

"  Hoosh.  Goo'  hoosh.  Gran7  hoosh.  Oh,  hoosh!  " 
and  as  if  the  mention  of  the  word  had  stricken  it 
back  into  clothes  again  it  slid  slowly  down  on  its 
back,  closed  its  eyes  and  began  to  snore. 

Oliver,  perched  on  his  bunk  for  what  comfort 
there  was,  sat  and  considered.  He  looked  at  the 
bundle  —  the  bars  —  the  bars  —  the  bundle.  The 
bundle  wheezed  apoplectically  —  no  sound  of  foot 
steps  came  from  beyond  the  bars.  Oliver  wondered 
if  Nancy  loved  him.  He  wondered  if  he  would  ever 
catch  that  Ten  Seven.  But  most  of  all  he  wondered 
why  on  earth  he  had  happened  to  get  in  here  and 
how  on  earth  he  was  ever  going  to  get  out. 


XX 


THE  sky  had  been  a  blue  steam  all  day,  but  at 
night  it  quieted,  there  were  faint  airs.  From  the 
window  of  the  apartment  on  Riverside  Drive  you 
could  see  it  grow  gentle,  fade  from  a  strong  heat 
of  azure  through  gray  gauze  into  darkness,  thick- 
soft  as  a  sable's  fur  at  first,  then  uneasily  patterned 
all  at  once  with  idle  leopard-spottings  and  strokes 
of  light.  The  lights  fell  into  the  river  and  dissolved, 
the  dark  wash  took  them  and  carried  them  into 
streaks  of  lesser,  more  fluid  light.  Even  so,  if  there 
could  have  been  country  silence  for  five  min 
utes  at  a  time,  the  running  river,  the  hills  so  dis 
turbed  with  light  beyond,  might  have  worn  some 
aspect  of  peace.  But  even  in  the  high  bird's  nest 
of  the  apartment  there  was  no  real  silence,  only  a 
pretending  at  silence,  like  the  forced  quiet  of  a  child 
told  to  keep  still  in  a  corner  —  the  two  people  dining 
together  could  talk  in  whispers,  if  they  wanted,  and 
still  be  heard,  but  always  at  the  back  of  the  brain 
of  either  ran  a  thin  pulsation  of  mumbling  sound 
like  the  buzz  of  a  kettle-drum  softly  struck  in  a 

"5 


n6  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

passage  of  music  where  the  orchestra  talks  full- 
voiced  —  the  night  sound  of  the  city,  breathing  and 
moving  and  saying  words. 

They  must  have  been  married  rather  contentedly 
for  quite  a  while  now,  they  said  so  little  of  im 
portance  at  dinner  and  yet  seemed  so  quietly  pleased 
at  having  dinner  together  and  so  neat  at  understand 
ing  half  sentences  without  asking  explanations, 
That  would  have  been  the  first  conclusion  of  any 
body  who  had  been  able  to  take  out  a  wall  and 
watch  their  doll-house  unobserved.  Besides,  though 
the  short,  decided  man  with  the  greyish  hair  must 
be  fifty  at  least,  the  woman  who  stood  his  own 
height  when  she  rose  from  the  table  was  too  slimly 
mature  for  anything  but  the  thirties.  Not  a  highly 
original  New  York  couple  by  any  means  —  a  pros 
pering  banker  or  president  of  a  Consolidated  Tooth 
pick  Company  with  a  beautiful  wife,  American  ma 
tron- without-children  model,  except  for  her  chin 
which  was  less  dimpled  than  cleft  with  decisiveness 
•and  the  wholly  original  lustre  of  her  hair,  a  buried 
lustre  like  the  shine  of  "  Murray's  red  gold  "  in  a 
Border  ballad.  A  wife  rather  less  society-stricken 
than  the  run  of  such  wives  since  she  obviously  pre 
ferred  hot  August  in  a  New  York  apartment  with 
her  husband's  company  to  beach-picnics  at  Green 
wich  or  Southampton  without  it.  Still  the  apart- 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  117 

ment,  though  compact  as  an  army  mess-kit,  was 
perfectly  furnished  and  the  maid  who  had  served 
the  cool  little  dinner  an  efficient  effacedness  of  the 
race  that  housekeepers  with  large  families  and  little 
money  assert  passed  with  the  Spanish  War.  Money 
enough,  and  the  knowledge  of  how  to  use  it  without 
blatancy  or  pinching  —  that  would  have  been  the 
second  conclusion. 

They  were  sitting  in  deep  chairs  in  the  living 
room  now,  a  tall-stemmed  reading  lamp  glowing 
softly  between  them,  hardly  speaking.  The  tired 
ness  that  had  been  in  the  man's  face  like  the  writ 
ing  in  a  '  crossed '  letter  began  to  leave  it  softly. 
He  reached  over,  took  the  woman's  hand  and  held 
it  —  not  closely  or  with  greediness  but  with  a  firm 
clasp  that  had  something  weary  like  appeal  in  it 
and  something  strong  like  a  knowledge  of  rest. 

"  Always  like  this,  at  home,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  It  is  rather  sweet."  Her  voice  had  the  gentle 
ness  of  water  running  into  water.  Her  eyes  looked 
at  him  once  and  left  him  deliberately  but  not  as  if 
they  didn't  care.  It  must  have  been  a  love-match 
in  the  beginning  then  —  her  eyes  seemed  so  infirm. 

"  You'll  read  a  little?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Home,"  he  said.  He  seemed  queerly  satisfied 
to  say  the  word,  queerly  moved  as  if  even  after  so 


ii8  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

much  reality  had  been  lived  through  together,  he 
couldn't  quite  believe  that  it  was  reality. 

"And  I've  been  waiting  for  it  —  five  days,  six 
days,  this  time?  " 

She  must  have  been  at  the  seashore  after  all  — 
tan  or  lack  of  it  meant  little  these  days,  especially 
to  a  woman  who  lived  in  this  kind  of  an  apartment. 
The  third  conclusion  might  have  been  rather  senti 
mental,  a  title  out  of  a  moving  picture  —  something 
about  Even  in  the  Wastes  of  the  Giant  City  the 
Weary  Heart  Will  Always  Turn  To  —  Just  Home. 

A  doll  on  a  small  table  began  to  buzz  mysteriously 
in  its  internals.  The  man  released  the  woman's 
hand  —  both  looking  deeply  annoyed. 

"  I  thought  we  had  a  private  number  here,"  said 
the  man,  the  tiredness  coming  back  into  his  face 
like  scribbles  on  parchment. 

She  crossed  to  the  telephone  with  a  charming 
furtiveness  —  you  could  see  she  was  playing  they 
had  just  been  found  behind  the  piano  together  in  a 
game  of  hide-and-seek.  The  doll  was  disembowelled 
of  its  telephone. 

"  No  —  No  —  Oh  very  well  —  " 

"  What  was  it?  " 

She  smiled. 

"  Is  this  the  Eclair  Picture  Palace?  "  she  mim 
icked. 


< 

w 

J 

"o 

•  H 
£ 

s 

M 

(4 
O 
< 
MH 
^C« 
^ 

S 

w 

ffi 
s? 


W 

PQ 

Q 
< 

ffi 

h 

< 

ffi 

h 

Crt 

c« 

W 
55 

Q 

W 


W 

K 

h 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  119 

Both  seemed  almost  childishly  relieved.  So  in 
spite  of  his  successful-business-man  mouth,  he  wasn't 
the  kind  that  is  less  a  husband  than  a  telephone- 
receiver,  especially  at  home.  Still,  she  would  have 
made  a  difference  even  to  telephone-receivers,  that 
could  be  felt  even  without  the  usual  complement 
of  senses. 

"  That  was  —  bothersome  for  a  minute."  His 
tone  lent  the  words  a  quaint  accent  of  scare. 

"  Oh,  well  —  if  you  have  one  at  all  — the  way  the 
service  is  now  —  " 

"  There  won't  be  any  telephone  when  we  take  our 
vacation  together,  that's  settled." 

She  had  been  kneeling,  examining  a  bookcase  for 
books.  Now  she  turned  with  one  in  her  hand,  her 
hair  ruddy  and  smooth  as  ruddy  amber  in  the  re 
flected  light. 

"  No,  but  telegrams.  And  wireless,"  she  whis 
pered  mockingly,  the  more  mockingly  because  it 
so  obviously  made  him  worried  as  a  worried  boy. 

She  came  over  and  stood  smoothing  his  ear  a 
moment,  a  half-unconscious  customary  gesture,  no 
doubt,  for  he  relaxed  under  it  and  the  look  of  rest 
came  back.  Then  she  went  to  her  chair,  sat  down 
and  opened  the  book. 

"  No  use  borrowing  trouble  now,  dear.  Now 
listen.  Cigar?  " 


120  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Going." 

"Ashtray?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  remember  not  to  knock  it  over  when  you 
get  excited.  Promise?  " 

"  Urn." 

"  Very  well." 

Mrs.  Severance's  even  voice  began  to  flow  into  the 
stillness. 

"As  I  was  getting  too  big  for  Mr.  Wopsle's  great- 
aunt  —  " 


XXI 

"AND  that's  the  end  of  the  chapter."  Mrs. 
Severance's  voice  trailed  off  into  silence.  She 
closed  the  book  with  a  soft  sound.  The  man  whom 
it  might  be  rather  more  convenient  than  otherwise 
to  call  Mr.  Severance  opened  his  eyes.  He  had  not 
been  asleep,  but  he  had  found  by  a  good  deal  of 
experience  that  he  paid  more  attention  to  Dickens 
if  he  closed  his  eyes  while  she  read. 

"  Thank  you  dear." 

"  Thank  you.  You  know  I  love  it.  Especially 
Pip." 

He  considered. 

"  There  was  a  word  one  of  my  young  men  used 
the  other  day  about  Dickens.  Gusto,  I  think  —  yes, 
that  was  it.  Well,  I  find  that,  as  I  grow  older,  that 
seems  to  be  the  thing  I  value  rather  more  than  most 
men  of  my  age.  Gusto."  He  smiled  "Though  I 
take  it  more  quietly,  perhaps,  —  than  I  did  when  I 
was  young,"  he  added. 

"  You  are  young  "  said  Mrs.  Severance  carefully. 

"  Not  really,  dear.  I  can  give  half-a-dozen  young 
sters  I  know  four  strokes  in  nine  holes  and  beat 

121 


122  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

them.  I  can  handle  the  bank  in  half  the  time  and 
with  half  the  worry  that  some  of  my  people  take  to 
one  department.  And  for  a  little  while  more,  Rose, 
I  may  be  able  to  satisfy  you.  But "  and  he  passed 
a  hand  lightly  over  his  hair.  "  It's  grey,  you  know," 
he  ended. 

"  As  if  it  mattered/'  said  Mrs.  Severance,  a  little 
pettishly. 

"  It  does  matter,  Rose."  His  eyes  darkened  with 
memory  —  with  the  sort  of  memory  that  hurts  more 
to  forget  than  even  to  remember.  "  Do  you  realize 
that  I  am  sixteen  years  older  than  you  are?  "  he 
said  a  little  hurriedly  as  if  he  were  trying  to  scribble 
the  memory  over  with  any  kind  of  words. 

"  But  my  dear  "  and  she  smiled,  "  you  were  six 
teen  years  older  six  years  ago  —  remember? 
There's  less  real  difference  between  us  now  than 
there  was  then." 

"  Yes,  I  certainly  wasn't  as  young  in  some  ways 
—  six  years  ago."  He  seemed  to  speak  almost  as 
if  unconsciously,  almost  as  if  the  words  were  being 
squeezed  out  of  him  in  sleep  by  a  thing  that  had 
pressed  for  a  long  time  with  a  steady  weight  on  his 
mind  till  the  mind  must  release  itself  or  be  broken. 
"But  then  nobody  could  be  with  you,  for  a  month 
even,  and  not  feel  himself  turn  younger  whether 
he  wanted  to  or  not." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  123 

"  So  that's  settled."  She  was  trying  to  carry  it 
lightly,  to  take  the  darkness  out  of  his  eyes.  "  And 
once  you've  bought  our  steamer  tickets  we  can  leave 
it  all  behind  at  the  wharf  and  by  the  time  we  land 
we'll  be  so  disgracefully  young  that  no  one  will 
recognize  us  —  just  think  —  we  can  keep  going  back 
and  back  till  I'm  putting  my  hair  up  for  the  first 
time  and  you're  in  little  short  trousers  —  and  then 
babies,  I  suppose  and  the  other  side  of  getting 
born  — "  but  her  voice,  for  once,  turned  ineffec 
tually  against  his  centeredness  of  gaze,  that  seemed 
now  as  if  it  had  turned  back  on  itself  for  a  strug 
gling  moment  and  regarded  neither  what  was  nor 
what  might  be,  but  only  what  was  past. 

"  Six  years  ago  "  he  said  with  the  same  drowsy 
thoughtfulness.  "  Well,  Rose,  I  shall  always  be  — 
most  grateful  —  for  those  six  years." 

She  started  to  speak  but  he  checked  her. 

"  I  think  I  would  be  willing  to  make  a  substantial 
endowment  to  any  Protestant  Church  that  still 
really  believed  in  hell/'  he  said,  "  because  that  was 
very  like  hell  —  six  years  ago." 

Intensity  began  to  come  into  his  voice  like  a  color 
of  darkness,  though  he  still  spoke  slowly. 

"  You  can  stand  nearly  everything  in  life  but 
being  tired  of  yourself.  And  six  years  ago  I  was 
tired  —  tired  to  death." 


124  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Her  hand  reached  over  and  touched  him  medic 
inally. 

"  I  suppose  I  had  no  right "  he  began  again  and 
then  stopped.  "  No,  I  think  the  strong  man  tires 
less  easily  but  more  wholly  than  the  weak  one  when 
he  does  tire.  And  I  was  strong  enough. 

"  I'd  played  a  big  game,  you  know.  When  my 
father  died  we  hadn't  much  left  but  position  —  and 
that  was  going.  I  don't  blame  my  father  —  he 
wasn't  a  business  man  —  he  should  have  been  a 
literary  critic  —  that  little  book  of  essays  of  his  still 
sells,  you  know;  not  much  but  there's  a  demand  for 
a  dozen  copies  every  year  and  that's  a  good  deal 
for  an  American  who's  been  dead  for  thirty.  Well, 
that's  where  the  children  get  their  liking  for  things 
like  that  —  I've  got  it  too,  a  little  —  I  could  have 
done  something  there  if  I'd  had  time.  But  I  never 
had  time. 

"  I  could  have  done  it  when  I  got  out  of  Harvard 
—  drifted  along  like  half  a  dozen  people  I  know, 
played  at  law,  played  at  writing,  played  always  and 
forever  -at  being  a  gentleman  —  ended  up  as  an 
officer  of  the  Century  Club  with  what  little  money 
I  had  in  an  annuity.  But  I  couldn't  stand  the  idea 
of  just  scraping  along.  And  for  nearly  ten  years  I 
put  those  things  aside. 

"  You  know  about  my  going  West  and  the  way 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  125 

I  lived  there.  It  wasn't  easy  when  I'd  been  at 
Harvard  and  gone  everywhere  in  New  York  and 
Boston  —  starting  in  so  far  below  the  bottom  that 
you  couldn't  even  see  the  bottom  unless  you  squinted 
your  eyes.  But  I  never  took  a  job  with  more  money 
if  I  thought  I  could  learn  anything  in  a  job  with 
less  —  and  every  place  I  went  I  stayed  until  I  could 
handle  the  job  of  the  man  two  places  ahead  of  me  — 
and  if  I  didn't  get  his  job  when  I  asked  for  it  I 
went  somewhere  else.  I  don't  think  I  read  a  book 
except  a  technical  one  for  the  first  five  years.  And 
after  that,  when  the  chain-stores  started  going  they 
asked  me  back  to  New  York  —  a  big  offer  too  — 
but  it  wasn't  the  kind  I  wanted  and  I  threw  it  down. 
I  knew  just  how  I  wanted  to  come  back  to  New 
York  and  that's  the  way  I  came. 

I  don't  suppose  my  morals  were  too  edifying  those 
years.  But  they  were  as  good  as  the  men  I  went 
with  and  I  kept  myself  in  hand.  I  saw  men  go  to 
pieces  with  drink  —  and  I  didn't  drink.  I  saw 
men  go  to  pieces  over  women  —  and  I  kept  away 
from  that  kind  of  woman.  A  man  has  to  have 
women  in  his  life  no  matter  how  much  you  talk 
about  it  —  but  I  took  the  kind  with  the  price-tag 
because  when  you  paid  them  you  were  through.  I 
could  have  married  a  dozen  times  if  I'd  wanted  but 
I  didn't  want  —  that  old  hocus-pocus  of  tradition 


126  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

was  still  with  me,  stronger  than  death  —  I  thought 
I  knew  the  kind  of  wife  I  wanted  and  she  was  in 
the  East. 

Then  the  partnership  with  Jessup  came  and  I  took 
it.  And  after  a  year  I  was  made.  I  wasn't  the 
last  of  one  of  the  penniless  old  families  that  give 
each  other  dinners  once  a  month  and  pretend  they're 
the  real  society  because  they  haven't  money  enough 
to  trail  in  the  present  society  game  —  even  by  then 
I  was  —  what  did  that  last  newspaper  story  say? 
'  a  figure  of  nation-wide  importance.'  Then  it  must 
be  just  about  time,  I  thought,  that  this  figure  of 
nation-wide  importance  began  to  look  around  a  lit 
tle  and  married  the  wife  he'd  been  waiting  for  and 
started  to  pick  up  all  the  things  he  hadn't  had  for 
twelve  years. 

"Well  —  Mary.  And  I  was  so  careful  about 
Mary,"  his  lips  twisted,  half  whimsically,  half  pain 
fully.  "  I  was  so  damn  sure.  I  was  so  damn  sure 
I  knew  everything  about  women. 

"  She  had  the  qualities  I'd  said  to  myself  I  wanted 
—  beauty,  position,  breeding,  a  good  enough  mind, 
some  common  sense.  She  hadn't  money,  but  there 
I  thought  I  could  help  her  —  the  way  she  ran  things 
for  her  father  on  what  they  had  showed  what  she 
could  do  with  more.  We  weren't  in  love  with  each 
other  —  oh  dear  no  —  but  that  I  considered  on  the 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  127 

whole  an  advantage  —  she  attracted  me  and  it's  fair 
enough  to  say  that  beside  most  of  the  men  she'd 
been  seeing  my  combination  of  having  been  Old 
New  York  and  being  one  of  the  young  big 
coming  men  from  the  West  dazzled  her  rather. 
And  anyhow  I  didn't  want  —  passion  —  exactly. 
I  thought  it  would  take  too  much  time  when 
I  was  only  in  the  middle  of  my  game  and  get 
ting  as  much  real  solid  fun  out  of  it  as  a  kid  gets 
out  of  cooking  his  own  dinner  in  camp.  I  wanted 
a  partner  and  a  home  and  children  and  somebody  to 
sit  at  the  head  of  my  table  when  I  wanted  to  be  — 
public  —  and  yet  somebody  you  could  be  at  home 
with  when  you  wanted  to  be  at  home.  And 
I  thought  I  had  them  all  in  Mary  —  I  thought 
I  was  being  about  the  most  sensible  man  in  the 
world. 

"  Well,  up  till  after  both  children  were  born  I 
think  I  tried  pretty  hard.  I  gave  her  all  I  could 
think  of  —  materially  at  least.  And  then  I  found 
out  in  spite  of  myself  that  you  can't  be  married  to 
a  woman  —  even  bearably  —  and  neither  be  lovers 
nor  friends  with  her.  And  Mary  and  I  never  got 
beyond  the  social  acquaintance  stage. 

"  It  wasn't  all  Mary's  fault  either  —  I  can  see 
that  now.  A  good  deal  was  in  the  way  she'd  been 
brought  up  —  they  weren't  modern  about  the  blisses 


128  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

of  ignorance  in  the  nineties.  But  the  rest  of  it  was 
Mary  and  she  couldn't  have  changed  it  any  more 
than  she  could  have  been  rude  to  a  servant  or  raised 
her  voice  more  than  usual  when  she  really  wanted 
something  done. 

"  She'd  been  brought  up  never  to  be  demonstra 
tive —  that  was  one  thing.  But  that  wasn't  the 
main  trouble  —  the  main  trouble  was  her  most 
curious,  most  frigid  self-sufficiency.  Until  her 
children  came  she  was  the  most  wholly  self-suffi 
cient  person  I've  ever  known.  She  was  really  only 
happy  when  she  was  entirely  alone,  always.  It 
wasn't  egotism  exactly  —  she's  always  had  a  very- 
well-mannered  conviction  of  her  own  relative  un 
importance —  it  was  just  that  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  she  seemed  so  perfectly  healthy  and  calm  and 
composed  whenever  she  was  with  other  people  they'd 
be  sure  to  hurt  her  a  little  somehow  or  other  without 
meaning  to  —  the  only  person  she  could  genuinely 
depend  on  never  to  hurt  her  was  herself. 

"  As  for  men,  she'd  formed  one  crystallized 
opinion  of  men  in  the  first  weeks  of  our  marriage 
and  she's  kept  it  ever  since.  She  looks  at  them  as 
if  they  were  a  kind  of  tame  wolf  about  the  house  — 
something  you  must  never  show  you're  afraid  of, 
something  you  must  feed  and  look  after  and  be 
publicly  amiable  to  because  you  must  be  just  —  but 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  129 

something  you  never  never  would  bring  in  the  house 
of  your  own  accord  or  touch  without  feeling  that  you, 
that  you  had  to  preserve  so  jealously  against  all  the 
things  that  could  possibly  hurt  it,  start  to  shrink  and 
be  pained  inside. 

"  Then  the  children  came  —  she  did  and  does 
love  them.  She  lives  for  them.  But  they're  part 
of  herself  too,  you  see,  an  essential  part,  and  as  she 
can't  give  herself  to  anybody  but  herself,  she  can't 
give  them  to  me  even  in  the  easiest  kind  of  part 
nership,  really.  You  don't  leave  small  children 
alone  with  even  the  tamest  kind  of  wolf  —  and  she's 
the  kind  of  woman  whose  children  are  always  six 
to  her.  And  she's  their  mother  —  and  so  she  has 
her  way. 

"  That's  the  way  it  got  worse.  Right  up  to  six 
years  ago. 

"  I'd  done  my  job  —  I  was  President  of  the  Com 
mercial.  And  I'd  made  my  money,  and  the  money 
still  kept  coming  in  as  if  it  didn't  make  any 
difference  what  I  did  with  it.  I'd  won  my  game. 
And  what  was  there  in  it  for  me? 

"  I  didn't  have  a  home  —  I  had  a  place  where 
I  ate  and  slept.  I  didn't  have  a  wife  —  I  had  an 
acquaintance  who  kept  house  for  me.  I  had  chil 
dren —  at  school  and  college.  I  didn't  have  real 
hobbies  —  I  hadn't  had  time  for  them.  And  I  was 


130  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

forty-nine.  All  I  could  do  was  go  on  making  money 
till  I  died. 

"  Well,  you  changed  that,"  his  voice  shook  a  little. 

"  You  came  and  I  saw  and  knew  and  took  you. 
And  I'm  not  sorry.  Because  you've  made  me  alive 
again.  And  I'm  going  to  be  alive  now  till  I  die. 

"  Funny  —  I  was  never  so  anxious  about  any 
thing  happening  as  I  have  been  about  —  our  ap 
proaching  mutual  disappearance.  Especially  the 
last  six  months  when  I've  been  planning.  But  now 
that's  settled. 

"  Mary  will  have  more  than  enough  and  the 
children  are  grown.  They  won't  know  —  I  still 
have  brains  enough  to  settle  that  and  money  will 
do  nearly  everything.  It'll  be  a  nine  days'  wonder. 
'  Sudden  Disappearance  of  Prominent  Financier  — 
Foul  Play  Suspected '  and  that'll  be  all. 

"  As  for  the  Commercial  —  I  haven't  come  to  my 
age  without  finding  out  that  nobody  in  the  world 
is  indispensable.  If  a  taxi  ran  over  me  tomorrow 
they'd  have  to  do  without  me  —  and  Harris  and 
the  young  men  can  handle  things. 

"  But  you  know  where  there'll  be  an  elderly 
gentleman  retired  from  business  with  a  country 
house  and  a  garden  he  can  putter  around  in  all  his 
worst  clothes.  And  a  wife  that  reads  Dickens  to 
him  in  the  evening  —  oh  yes,  Rose,  we'll  take 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  131 

Dickens  along.  And  he'll  be  pretty  contented  as 
things  go  —  that  retired  old  gentleman." 

The  darkness  had  passed  from  his  eyes  —  he  was 
smiling  now. 

"  Be  nice  —  eh  Rose?  " 

He  took  her  hand  —  the  warm  touch  was  still 
strong,  still  reassuring.  Only  the  eyes  that  he  was 
not  looking  at  now  seemed  singularly  unsure,  as  if 
they  had  seen  something  they  had  pondered  over 
lightly,  as  a  mere  possibility,  years  ago,  take  on 
sudden  impatient  body  and  demand  to  be  heard. 

She  let  her  hand  lie  lightly  in  his  for  a  moment. 
Then  she  rose. 

"Half  past  twelve"  she  said  a  little  stiffly. 
"  Time  for  two  such  genuine  antiques  as  we  are 
to  think  of  being  put  away  in  our  cases  for  the 
night." 


XXII 

IT  was  three  in  the  afternoon  before  Oliver  walked 
into  the  Hotel  Rosario  again  and  when  he  did  it 
was  with  the  feeling  that  the  house  detective  might 
come  up  at  any  moment,  touch  him  quietly  on  the 
shoulder  and  remark  that  his  bag  might  be  sent 
down  to  the  station  after  him  if  he  paid  his  bill  and 
left  quietly  and  at  once.  An  appearance  before  a 
hoarse  judge  who  fined  him  ten  dollars  in  as  many 
seconds  had  not  helped  his  self-confidence  though 
he  kept  wondering  if  there  was  a  sliding  scale  of 
penalties  for  improper  language  applied  to  the  police 
of  St.  Louis  and  just  what  would  have  happened  if 
he  had  called  the  large  blue  policeman  anything  out 
of  his  A.  E.  F.  vocabulary.  Also  the  desk,  when  he 
called  there  for  his  key,  reminded  him  twingingly 
of  the  dock,  and  the  clerk  behind  it  looked  at  him 
so  knowingly  as  he  made  the  request  that  Oliver 
began  to  construct  a  hasty  moral  defence  of  his 
whole  life  from  the  time  he  had  stolen  sugar  at 
eight,  when  he  was  reassured  by  the  clerk's  merely 
saying  in  a  voice  like  a  wink. 

132 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  133 

"  Telephone  call  for  you  last  night,  Mr.  Crowe." 

Nancy! 

With  a  horrible  effort  to  keep  impassive,  "  Yes? 
Who  was  it?  " 

"  Party  didn't  leave  a  name." 

"Oh.    When?" 

"  'Bout  'leven  o'clock." 

"  And  she  didn't  leave  any  message?  "  Then 
Oliver  turned  pink  at  having  betrayed  himself  so 
easily. 

"  No-o  —  she  didn't."  The  clerk's  eyelid  drooped 
a  trifle.  Those  collegy  looking  boys  were  certainly 
hell  with  women. 

"  Oh,  well  —  "  with  a  vast  attempt  to  seem  care 
less.  "  Thanks.  Where's  the  'phone?  " 

"  Over  there  "  and  Oliver  followed  the  direction 
of  the  jerked  thumb  to  shut  himself  up  in  a  booth 
with  his  heart,  apparently,  bent  upon  doing  queer 
interpretative  dances  and  his  mind  full  of  all  the 
most  apologetic  words  in  or  out  of  the  dictionary. 

"  Hello.    Hello.    Is  this  Nancy?  " 

"  This  is  Mrs.  S.  R.  Ellicott."  The  voice  seems 
extremely  detached. 

"  Oh,  good  morning,  Mrs.  Ellicott.  This  is 
Oliver  —  Oliver  Crowe,  you  know.  Is  Nancy 
there?  " 

Nor  does  it  appear  inclined  toward  lengthy  con 
versation —  the  voice  at  the  other  end. 


134  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  No." 

"Well,  when  will  she  be  in?  I've  got  to  take 
the  five  o'clock  train  Mrs.  Ellicott  —  I've  simply 
got  to  —  I  may  lose  my  job  if  I  don't  —  but  I've 
got  to  talk  to  her  first  —  I've  got  to  explain  —  " 

"  There  can  be  very  little  good,  I  think,  in  your 
talking  to  her  Mr.  Crowe.  She  has  told  me  that 
you  both  consider  the  engagement  at  an  end." 

"But  that's  impossible,  Mrs.  Ellicott  —  that's 
too  absurd  "  Oliver  felt  too  much  as  if  he  were 
fighting  for  life  against  something  invisible  to  be 
careful  about  his  words.  "  I  know  we  quarrelled 
last  night  —  but  it  was  all  my  fault,  I  didn't  mean 
anything  —  I  was  going  to  call  her  up  the  first 
thing  this  morning  but  you  see,  they  wouldn't  let 
me  out — " 

Then  he  stopped  with  a  grim  realization  of  just 
what  it  was  that  he  had  said.  There  was  a  long 
fateful  pause  from  the  other  end  of  the  wire. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand,  Mr. 
Crowe." 

"  They  wouldn't  let  me  out.  I  was  —  er  —  de 
tained  —  ah  —  kept  in." 

"  Detained?  "  The  inflection  is  politely  inquisi 
tive. 

"  Yes,  detained.  You  see  —  I  —  you  —  oh  dam 
mit,  I  was  in  jail.  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  135 

This  time  the  pause  that  follows  had  to  Oliver 
much  of  the  quality  of  that  little  deadly  hush  that 
will  silence  all  earth  and  sky  in  the  moment  before 
Last  Judgment.  Then 

" In  jail"  said  the  voice  with  an  accent  of  utter 
finality. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  oh  it  wasn't  anything  —  I  could 
explain  in  five  seconds  if  I  saw  her  —  it  was  all  a 
misunderstanding  —  I  called  the  policeman  a  boob 
but  I  didn't  mean  it  —  1  don't  see  yet  why  he  took 
offence  —  it  was  just  —  " 

He  was  stifling  inside  the  airless  booth  —  he 
trickled  all  over.  This  was  worse  than  being  court- 
martialled.  And  still  the  voice  did  not  speak. 

"  Can't  you  understand?  "  he  yelled  at  last  with 
more  strength  of  lung  than  politeness. 

"  I  quite  understand,  Mr.  Crowe.  You  were  in 
jail.  No  doubt  we  shall  read  all  about  it  in  to 
morrow's  papers." 

"  No  you  won't  —  I  gave  somebody  else's  name." 

"Oh."  Mrs.  Ellicott  was  ticking  off  the  data 
gathered  so  far  on  her  fingers.  The  brutal  quarrel 
with  Nancy.  The  rush  to  the  nearest  blind-tiger. 
The  debauch.  The  insult  to  Law.  The  drunken 
struggle.  The  prison.  The  alias.  And  now  the 
attempt  to  pretend  that  nothing  had  happened  — 
when  the  criminal  in  question  was  doubtless  swig- 


136  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

ging  from  a  pocket-flask  at  this  very  moment  for 
the  courage  to  support  his  flagrant  impudence  in 
trying  to  see  Nancy  again.  All  this  passed  through 
Mrs.  Ellicott 's  mind  like  a  series  of  colored  pictures 
in  a  Prohibition  brochure. 

"  But  I  can  explain  that  too.  I  can  explain 
everything.  Please,  Mrs.  Ellicott  —  " 

"  Mr.  Crowe,  this  conversation  has  become  a  very 
painful  one.  Would  it  not  be  wiser  to  close  it?" 

Oliver  felt  as  if  Mrs.  Ellicott  had  told  him  to 
open  his  bag  and  when  he  did  so  had  pointed 
sternly  at  a  complete  set  of  burglar's  tools  on  top 
of  his  dress-shirts. 

"  Can-I -see-Nancy?  "  he  ended  desperately,  the 
words  all  run  together: 

But  the  voice  that  answered  was  very  firm  with 
rectitude. 

"  Nancy  has  not  the  slightest  desire  to  see  you, 
Mr.  Crowe.  Now  or  ever."  Mrs.  Ellicott  asked 
pardon  inwardly  for  the  lie  with  a  false  humility  — 
if  Nancy  will  not  save  herself  from  this  young  man 
whom  she  has  always  disliked  and  who  has  just  ad 
mitted  to  being  a  jailbird  in  fact  and  a  drunkard  by 
implication,  she  will. 

"  I  should  think  you  would  find  it  easier  hearing 
this  from  me  than  you  would  from  her.  She  has 
found  it  easier  to  say." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  137 

"But,  Mrs.  Ellicott  — " 

"  There  are  things  that  take  a  little  too  much 
explaining  to  explain,  Mr.  Crowe."  The  meaning 
seemed  vague  but  the  tone  was  doomlike  enough. 
"  And  in  any  case  "  the  voice  ended  with  a  note 
of  flat  triumph,  "  Nancy  will  not  be  home  until 
dinnertime  so  you  could  not  possibly  telephone  her 
before  the  departure  of  your  train." 

"  Oh." 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Crowe,"  and  a  click  at  the  other 
end  showed  that  Mrs.  Ellicott  had  hung  up  the 
receiver,  leaving  him  to  shriek  "But  listen  — " 
pitiably  into  the  little  black  mouthpiece  in  front  of 
him  until  Central  cut  in  on  him  angrily  with  "  Say, 
whatcha  tryin'  to  do,  fella?  Break  my  ear?  " 


XXIII 

AFTER  tindery  hours  in  a  day  coach — the  fine 
and  the  loss  of  his  Pullman  reservation  have 
left  him  with  less  than  three  dollars  in  cash 
—  Oliver  crawls  into  Vanamee  and  Company's 
about  four  in  the  afternoon.  Everybody  but  Mrs. 
Wimple  and  Mr.  Tickler  is  out  of  Copy  for  the 
moment  and  the  former  greets  him  with  coy  wit. 

"  Been  taking  your  vacation  at  Newport,  Crowie? 
Or  didja  sneak  the  Frisco  account  away  from  B rug 
ger's  Service  when  you  were  out  West?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  got  jugged  —  that  was  all,"  says  Oliver 
quite  truthfully  if  tiredly  and  Mrs.  Wimple  crows  at 
the  jest  with  high  laughter.  Oliver  marvels  at  the 
fact  that  everybody  should  seem  to  think  it  so 
humorous  to  be  jailed. 

"  Why,  Crowie,  you  naughty  little  boy!  Oh 
mischief,  mischief!  "  and  she  scrapes  one  index  rin 
ger  over  the  other  at  him  in  a  try  for  errant  childish 
ness.  Then  she  and  her  perfume  come  closer  and 
this  time  she  looks  around  before  she  speaks  and 
there  is  some  little  real  concern  in  her  voice. 

"  Listen,  Crowie  —  you  better  watch  your  step, 

138 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  139 

boy  —  I'm  telling  you  straight.  Old  Man  Alley 
was  real  sore  when  you  didn't  blow  in  yesterday  — 
it  was  one  of  Vanamee's  bad  days  when  his  eye 
gets  twitchy  and  he  was  rearing  around  cursing 
everybody  out  and  giving  an  oration  on  office  dis 
cipline  that'd  a  made  a  goat  go  laugh  itself  ill.  And 
then  Alley  got  hold  of  Deller  and  they  are  both 
talking  about  you  —  I  know  because  Deller  said 
6  Oh  give  him  another  chance '  and  Alley  said 
1  What's  the  use,  Deller  —  he's  been  here  eight 
months  and  he  doesn't  seem  to  really  get  the  hang 
of  things,'  in  that  snippy  little  way  and  then  '  I  can't 
stand  breaches  of  discipline  like  this.'  You  know 
how  nervous  it  gets  him  if  as  much  as  a  fastener  is 
out  of  place  on  his  desk  —  and  Winslow's  got  a  kid 
cousin  he  wants  to  put  in  here  and  if  you  don't  act 
like  mama's  darling  for  a  while — " 

She  is  ready  to  go  on  indefinitely,  but  Oliver 
thanks  her  abstractedly  —  it  is  decent  of  the  old 
girl  after  all  —  grunts  "  Guess  I  better  start  in 
looking  busy  now,  Mrs.  Wimple!  "  and  sits  down 
at  his  desk. 

A  note  from  Deller  with  five  pencil  sketches 
attached  of  the  new  trade  figures  for  Brittlekin  — 
two  bloated  looking  children  with  inkblot  eyes 
looking  greedily  at  an  enormous  bar  of  peanut 
candy.  "  Dear  Crowe:  Will  you  give  me  copy  on 


140  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

these  as  soon  as  possible  —  something  snappy  this 
time.  —  E.  B.  D."  A  memorandum,  "  Mr.  Piper 
called  you  4  P.M.  Monday.  Wishes  you  to  call  him 
as  soon  as  possible."  The  United  Steel  Frame  Pulley 
layouts  and  another  note  from  Deller,  "  This  is 
LATE.  DO  something."  Back  to  pulleys  again 
and  the  crowded  sweat-box  of  the  copy  room  and 
twenty-five  dollars  a  week  with  the  raise  gone 
glimmering  now  — 

And  Nancy  is  lost. 

Oliver  sits  looking  at  the  layouts  for  United  Steel 
Frame  Pulleys  for  half-an-hour  without  really  doing 
anything  but  sharpen  and  resharpen  a  pencil.  Mrs. 
Wimple  wonders  if  he's  sick  —  he  ain't  white  or 
anything  but  he  looks  just  like  Poppa  did  the  time 
he  came  back  and  told  Momma,  "  Momma  the  bank 
has  bust  and  our  funds  has  went."  She  watches 
him  eagerly  —  gee,  it'd  be  exciting  if  he  fainted  or 
did  anything  queer!  He  said  he'd  been  in  jail  too 
—  Mrs.  Wimple  shivers  —  but  he's  so  comical  you 
never  can  tell  what  he  really  means  —  that  way  he 
looks  may  be  just  what  she  saw  in  a  movie  once 
about  "  the  pallid  touch  of  the  prison."  If  it's 
indigestion,  though,  he  ought  to  try  Pepsolax  — 
that  certainly  eases  you  up  right  — 

Finally  Oliver  stacks  all  the  layouts  together  in 
a  careful  pile  and  goes  in  to  see  Mr.  Alley.  That 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  141 

precise  and  toothy  little  sub-deity  does  not  seem 
extremely  enthusiastic  over  his  return. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Crowe,  so  you  got  back?  What  de 
tained  you?  " 

"  Police  "  says  Oliver  with  a  faint  smile  and  Mr. 
Alley  laughs  dutifully  enough  though  rather  in  a 
"  here,  here,  we  must  get  down  to  business  "  way. 
Then  he  fusses  with  his  pencil  a  little. 

"I'm  glad  you  came  in,  Crowe.  I  wanted  to  see 
you  about  that  matter.  It  is  not  so  much  that  we 
begrudge  —  but  in  a  place  like  this  where  everyone 
must  work  shoulder  to  shoulder  —  and  purely  as  a 
point  of  office  discipline  —  Mr.  Vanamee  is  rather 
rigid  in  regard  to  that  and  your  work  so  far  has 
really  hardly  justified  —  " 

"  Oh  that's  all  right,  Mr.  Alley  "  breaks  in  Oliver, 
though  not  rudely,  he  is  much  too  fagged  to  be  rude, 
"  I'm  leaving  at  the  end  of  the  week  if  it's  con 
venient  to  you." 

"  Well,  really,  Mr.  Crowe."  But  in  spite  of  his 
diplomatic  surprise  he  hardly  seems  distressfully 
perturbed.  "  I  hope  it  is  not  because  you  feel  we 
have  treated  you  unfairly — "  he  begins  again  a 
little  anxiously  —  under  all  his  feathers  of  fussiness 
he  is  essentially  kindly. 

"  Oh  no,  I'm  just  leaving." 

There  are  more  diplomatic  exchanges  but  when 


142  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

they  have  ended  Oliver  goes  back  to  Copy,  remarks 
"Quitting  Saturday,  Mrs.  Wimple,"  gets  his  hat 
and  goes  off  a  quarter  of  an  hour  earlier  than  he 
ever  has  before,  leaving  the  rest  of  Copy  to  match 
pennies  and  opinions  till  closing  time  on  the  question 
as  to  whether  he  fired  himself  or  was  fired. 


XXIV 

JANE  ELLEN  swayed  back  and  forth  in  the  porch 
hammock,  hugging  herself  with  fat  arms.  All  her 
dolls  lay  spread  out  wretchedly  on  the  floor  be 
neath  her,  she  had  stripped  them  of  every  rag  and 
they  had  the  dejected  appearance  of  victims  ready 
for  sacrifice  to  Baal.  "  The  Choolies  are  mad!  " 
she  sang  to  herself,  "The  Choolies  are  mad!  " 

It  had  been  a  perfectly  sensible  idea  to  try  and 
water  the  flowers  on  the  parlor  carpet  with  her 
doll's  watering  pot  —  those  flowers  hadn't  had  any 
water  for  an  awful  long  time.  But  Mother  had 
punished  her  in  the  Third  Degree  which  was  by 
hairbrush  and  Aunt  Elsie  had  taken  the  watering-pot 
away  and  Rosalind  and  Dickie  had  put  on  such  of 
fensively  virtuous  expressions  as  soon  as  they  heard 
her  being  punished  that  she  was  mad  at  them  all. 
And  not  ordinarily  mad  —  not  mad  just  by  herself 
—  the  Choolies  were  divinely  incensed  as  well. 

"  The  Choolies  are  mad!  "  she  hummed  again  like 
a  battle-cry  "  Choolies  are  dolls  and  all  the  Choolies 
are  mad!" 

The  Choolies  were  only  mad  on  rare  occasions. 

143 


144  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

It  took  something  genuinely  out  of  the  ordinary  to 
turn  an  inoffensive  pink  celluloid  doll  with  one 
of  its  legs  off  into  an  angry  Choolie.  But  when 
they  were  mad  the  family  had  discovered  by  painful 
experience  that  the  only  !thing  to  do  was  to  leave 
Jane  Ellen  quite  entirely  alone. 

"  The  Choolies  are  mad,  mad,  mad !  "  she  chanted 
and  chanted,  her  plump  legs  swinging,  her  mouth 
set  like  a  prophet's  calling  down  lightnings  on 
Babylon  the  splendid. 

Then  she  stopped  swinging.  Somebody  was  com 
ing  up  the  path  —  any  of  the  people  she  was  mad 
at?  —  no  —  only  Uncle  Ollie.  Were  the  Choolies 
mad  at  Uncle  Ollie?  She  considered  a  moment. 

"  Hello,  Jane  Ellen,  how  goes  it?  " 

The  small  mouth  was  full  of  rebellion. 

"Urn  mad!  " 

"  Oh  —  sorry.    What  about?  " 

Defiantly 

"  Um  mad.  And  the  Choolies  are  mad  —  they're 
mad  —  they're  mad  —  " 

Oliver  looked  at  her  a  moment  but  was  much  too 
wise  to  smile. 

"They  aren't  mad  at  you,  but  they're  mad  at 
Motha  and  Aunt  Elsie  and  Ro  and  Dickie  and  oh 
—  evvabody!  "  Jane  Ellen  stated  graciously. 

"  Well,  as  long  as  they  aren't  mad  at  me  —  Any 
letters  for  me,  Jane  Ellen?  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  145 

"  Yash." 

Oliver  found  them  on  the  desk,  looked  them 
over,  once,  twice.  A  letter  from  Peter  Piper.  Two 
advertisements.  A  letter  with  a  French  stamp. 
Nothing  from  Nancy. 

He  went  out  on  the  porch  again  to  read  his 
letters,  to  the  accompaniment  of  Jane  Ellen's  un- 
tirable  chant.  "The  Choolies  are  mad"  buzzed 
in  his  ears,  "  The  Choolies,  the  Choolies  are  mad." 
For  a  moment  he  saw  the  Choolies;  they  were  all 
women  like  Mrs.  Ellicott  but  they  stood  up  in 
front  of  him  taller  than  the  sky  and  one  of  them 
had  hidden  Nancy  away  in  her  black  silk  pocket  — 
put  her  somewhere  where  he  never  would  see  her 
again. 

"  Ollie,  you  look  at  me  sternaly  —  don't  look  at 
me  so  sternaly,  Ollie  —  the  Choolies  aren't  mad  at 
you  —  "  said  Jane  Ellen  anxiously.  "  Fy  do  you 
look  at  me  so  sternaly?  " 

He  grinned  his  best  at  her.  "  Sorry,  Jane  Ellen. 
But  my  girl's  chucked  me  and  I've  chucked  my 
job  —  and  consequently  all  my  choolies  are  mad —  " 


XXV 

THAT  night  was  distinguished  by  four  uneasy 
meals  in  different  localities.  The  first  was  Oliver's 
and  he  ate  it  as  if  he  were  consuming  sawdust  while 
the  Crowes  talked  all  around  him  in  the  suppressed 
voices  of  people  watching  a  military  funeral  pass 
to  its  muffled  drums.  Mrs.  Crowe  was  too  wise  to 
try  and  comfort  him  in  public  except  by  silence  and 
even  Dickie  was  still  too  surprised  at  Oliver's 
peevish  "  Oh  get  out,  kid  "  when  he  tried  to  drag 
him  into  their  usual  evening  boxing  match  to  do 
anything  but  confide  despondently  to  his  mother 
that  he  doesn't  see  why  Oliver  has  to  act  so  queer 
about  any  girl. 

The  second  meal  was  infinitely  gayer  on  the  sur 
face  though  a  certain  kind  of  strainedness  a  little  like 
the  strainedness  in  the  pauses  of  a  perfectly  friendly 
football  game  when  both  sides  are  too  evenly 
matched  to  score  ran  through  it.  Still,  whatever 
strainedness  there  was  could  hardly  have  been  Mrs. 
Severance's  fault. 

The  impeccable  Elizabeth  showed  no  surprise  at 
being  told  she  could  have  the  day  and  needn't  be 

146 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  147 

back  till  breakfast  tomorrow.  She  might  have 
thought  that  there  seemed  to  be  a  good  deal  of  rather 
perishable  food  in  the  icebox  to  be  wasted,  if  Mrs. 
Severance  were  going  to  have  dinner  out.  But 
Elizabeth  had  always  been  one  of  the  rare  people 
who  took  pride  in  "  knowing  when  they  were 
suited  "  and  the  apartment  on  Riverside  Drive  had 
suited  her  perfectly  for  four  years.  She  was  also 
a  great  deal  too  clever  to  abstract  any  of  those 
fragile  viands  to  take  to  her  widowed  sister  on  Long 
Island  —  Mrs.  Severance  is  so  good  at  finding  uses 
for  all  sorts  of  odd  things  —  Elizabeth  felt  quite 
sure  she  would  find  some  use  or  other  for  these  too. 

Ted  Billett  certainly  found  a  good  deal  of  use  for 
some  of  it,  thought  Mrs.  Severance  whimsically.  It 
had  hardly  been  a  Paolo  and  Francesca  diner-a-deux 
—  both  had  been  much  too  frankly  hungry  when 
they  came  to  it  and  Ted's  most  romantic  remarks 
so  far  had  been  devoted  to  a  vivid  appreciation  of 
Mrs.  Severance's  housekeeping.  But  all  men  are 
very  much  like  hungry  little  boys  every  so  often, 
Mrs.  Severance  reflected. 

Ted  really  began  to  wonder  around  nine-thirty. 
At  first  there  had  been  only  coming  in  and  finding 
Rose  just  through  setting  the  table  and  then  they 
had  been  too  busy  with  dinner  and  their  usual  fence 
of  talk  to  allow  for  any  unfortunate  calculations  as 


148  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

to  how  Mrs.  Severance  could  do  it  on  her  salary. 
But  what  a  perfect  little  apartment  —  and  even 
supposing  all  the  furniture  and  so  forth  were  family 
inheritances,  and  they  fitted  each  other  much  too 
smoothly  for  that,  the  mere  upkeep  of  the  place 
must  run  a  good  deal  beyond  any  "  Mode  "  salary. 
Mr.  Severance?  Ted  wasn't  sure.  Oh,  wdl  he 
was  too  comfortable  at  the  moment  to  look  gift 
horses  of  any  description  too  sternly  in  the  mouth. 

Rose  was  beautiful  —  it  was  Ted  and  Rose  by 
now.  He  would  like  to  see  someone  paint  her 
sometime  as  Summer,  drowsy  and  golden,  passing 
through  fields  of  August,  holding  close  to  her  rich 
warm  body  the  tall  sheaves  of  her  fruitful  corn. 
And  again  the  firelight  crept  close  to  him,  and 
under  its  touch  all  his  senses  stirred  like  leaves 
in  light  wind,  glad  to  be  hurt  with  firelight  and  then 
left  soothed  and  heavy  and  warm. 

Only  now  he  had  a  charm  against  what  the  fire 
light  meant  —  what  it  had  been  meaning  more  and 
more  these  last  few  weeks  with  Rose  Severance. 
It  was  not  a  very  powerful-looking  charm  —  a 
dozen  lines  of  a  letter  from  Elinor  Piper  asking 
him  to  come  to  Southampton,  but  it  began  "Dear 
Ted  "  and  ended  "  Elinor  "  and  he  thought  it  would 
serve. 

That  ought  to  be  enough  —  that  small  thing  only 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  149 

magical  from  what  you  made  it  mean  against  what 
it  really  was  —  that  wish  that  nobody  could  even 
nickname  hope  —  to  keep  you  cool  against  the  waves 
of  firelight  that  rose  over  you  like  the  scent  of  a 
harvest  meadow.  It  was,  almost. 

Rose  had  been  telling  him  how  unhappy  she  was 
all  evening.  Not  whiningly  —  and  not,  as  he  re 
membered  later,  with  any  specific  details  —  but  in 
a  way  that  made  him  feel  as  if  he,  as  part  of  the 
world  that  had  hurt  her,  were  partly  responsible. 
And  to  want  exceedingly  to  help.  And  then  the 
only  way  he  could  think  of  helping  was  to  put  him 
self  like  kindling  into  the  firelight,  and  he  mustn't 
do  that.  "  Elinor  "  he  said  under  his  breath  like 
an  exorcism,  but  Rose  was  very  breathing  and  good 
to  look  at  and  in  the  next  chair. 

His  fingers  took  a  long  time  getting  his  watch. 

"  I've  got  to  go  Rose,  really." 

"  Must  you?  What's  the  time  —  eleven?  —  why 
heavens,  I've  kept  you  here  ages,  haven't  I,  and 
done  nothing  but  moan  about  my  troubles  all  the 
time." 

"  You  know  I  liked  it."  Ted's  voice  was  curi 
ously  boyishly  honest  in  a  way  he  hated  but  a  way 
that  was  one  of  Rose's  reasons  why  he  was  here 
with  her. 

"  Well,  come  again,"  she  said  frankly.  "  It  was 
fun.  I  loved  it." 


ISO  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  I  will  —  Lord  knows  I  thank  you  enough  — 
after  2 52 A  Madison  Avenue  it  was  simply  perfect. 
And  Rose  —  " 

"Well?" 

"  I'm  awful  damn  sorry.    I  wish  I  could  help." 

He  thought  she  was  going  to  laugh.  Instead 
she  turned  perfectly  grave. 

"  I  wish  you  could,  Ted." 

They  shook  hands  —  it  seemed  to  Ted  with  a 
good  deal  of  effort  to  do  only  that.  Then  they  stood 
looking  at  each  other. 

There  was  so  little  between  them  —  only  a  charm 
that  nobody  could  say  was  even  partly  real  —  but 
somewhere  in  Ted's  brain  it  said  "  Elinor  "  and  he 
managed  to  shake  hands  again  and  get  out  of  the 
door. 

Mrs.  Severance  waited  several  minutes,  listening, 
a  faint  smile  curling  her  mouth  with  intentness  and 
satisfaction.  No,  this  time  he  wouldn't  come  back 
—  nor  next  time,  maybe  —  but  there  would  be 
other  times — 

Then  she  went  into  the  pantry  and  started  heating 
water  for  the  dishes  that  she  had  explained  reassur 
ingly  to  Ted  they  were  leaving  for  Elizabeth. 
There  was  no  need  at  all  of  Elizabeth's  knowing 
any  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary. 


XXVI 

MR.  SEVERANCE  —  the  courtesy  title  at  least  is 
due  him  —  seems  to  be  a  man  with  quite  a  number 
of  costly  possessions.  At  least  here  he  is  with  an 
other  house,  a  dinner-table,  servants,  guests,  an 
other  Mrs.  Severance  or  somebody  who  seems  to 
fill  her  place  very  adequately  at  the  opposite  end 
of  the  table,  all  as  if  Rose  and  the  Riverside  Drive 
apartment  and  reading  Dickens  aloud  were  only 
parts  of  a  doll-house  kept  in  one  locked  drawer  of 
his  desk. 

The  dinner  is  flawless,  the  guests  importantly 
jeweled  or  stomached,  depending  on  their  sex,  the 
other  Mrs.  Severance  an  admirable  hostess  —  and 
yet  in  spite  of  it  all,  Mr.  Severance  does  not  seem 
to  be  enjoying  himself  as  he  should.  But  this  may 
be  due  to  a  sort  of  minstrel  give-and-take  of  dialogue 
that  keeps  going  on  between  what  he  says  for  publi 
cation  and  what  he  thinks. 

"  Well,  Frazee,  I'll  be  ready  to  go  into  that  loan 
matter  with  you  inside  a  month,"  says  his  voice, 
and  his  mind  "  Frazee,  you  slippery  old  burglar, 
it  won't  be  a  month  before  you'll  be  spreading  the 


152  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

news  that  my  disappearance  means  suicide  and 
that  the  Commercial  is  rotten,  lock,  stock  and 
barrel." 

"  Yes,  dear/'  in  answer  to  a  relayed  query  from 
the  other  Mrs.  Severance.  "  The  children  took  the 
small  car  to  go  to  the  dance."  "And,  Mary,  if 
they'd  ever  been  our  children  instead  of  your  keep 
ing  them  always  yours,  there  wouldn't  be  that  little 
surprise  in  store  for  you  that  I've  arranged." 

"  Cigar,  Winthrop?  "  "  Better  take  two,  my 
friend  —  they  won't  be  as  good  after  Mary  has 
charge  of  that  end  of  the  house." 

So  it  goes  —  until  Mr.  Severance  has  dined  very 
well  indeed.  And  yet  Winthrop,  chatting  with 
Frazee,  just  before  they  go  out  of  the  door,  finds  it 
necessary  to  whisper  to  him  for  some  reason  —  half 
a  dozen  words  under  cover  of  a  discussion  of  what 
the  Shipping  Board's  new  move  will  mean  to  the 
mercantile  marine.  "  I  told  you  so,  George.  See 
his  hands?  The  old  boy's  failing." 


XXVII 

THE  fourth  meal  is  Nancy's  and  it  doesn't  seem 
very  happy.  When  it  is  over  and  Mr.  Ellicott  has 
rustled  himself  away  from  intrusion  behind  the 
evening  paper. 

"  Nobody  —  'phoned  today  —  did  they,  mother?" 

"  No,  dear."  The  voice  is  not  as  easy  as  it  might 
be,  but  Nancy  does  not  notice. 

"  Oh." 

Nor  does  Nancy  notice  how  hurriedly  her 
mother's  next  question  comes. 

"  Did  you  see  Mrs.  Winters,  darling?  " 

"  Oh  yes  —  I  saw  her." 

"  And  you're  going  on  to  New  York?  " 

"Yes  — next  week,  I  think." 

"  With  her.    And  going  to  stay  with  her?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

Mrs.  Ellicott  sighs  relievedly. 

"  That's  so  nice." 

Nancy  will  be  safe  now  —  as  safe  as  if  she  were 
under  an  anesthetic.  Mrs.  Winters  will  take  care 
of  that.  She  must  have  a  little  talk  with  dear  Isa 
bella  Winters. 

153 


154  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

But  that  night  Nancy  is  alone  in  her  room  —  do 
ing  up  her  engagement  ring  and  Oliver's  letters  in  a 
wobbly  package.  She  is  not  quite  just,  though,  she 
keeps  one  letter  —  the  first. 


XXVIII 

MARGARET  CROWE,  who,  having  just  come  to  her 
seventeenth  birthday  in  this  present  day  and  gener 
ation,  felt  it  her  official  family  duty  to  season  the 
general  conversation  with  an  appropriate  pepper  of 
heartlessness,  had  really  put  it  very  well.  She  had 
said  that  while  she  didn't  suppose  one  house  party 
over  Labor  Day  would  more  than  partially  rivet  a 
broken  heart,  it  honestly  was  a  relief  for  everybody 
else  to  get  Oliver  out  of  the  house  for  a  while,  and 
mother  needn't  look  at  her  that  way  because  she 
was  as  sorry  as  any  of  the  rest  of  them  for  poor  old 
Oliver  but  when  people  went  about  like  walking 
cadavers  and  nearly  bit  you  any  time  you  mentioned 
anything  that  had  to  do  with  marriage,  it  was  time 
they  went  somewhere  else  for  a  while  and  stayed 
there  till  they  got  over  it. 

And  Mrs.  Crowe,  though  dutifully  rebuking  her 
for  her  flippant  treatment  of  a  brother's  pain,  agreed 
with  the  sense  of  her  remarks,  if  not  with  the 
wording.  It  had  taken  a  good  deal  of  quiet  ob 
stinacy  on  the  part  of  the  whole  family  to  get  Oliver 
to  accept  Peter  Piper's  invitation  —  Mrs.  Crowe, 

155 


156  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

who  was  understanding,  knew  at  what  cost  —  the 
cost  of  a  man  who  has  lost  a  hand's  first  appearance 
in  company  with  the  stump  unbandaged  —  but  any 
thing  would  be  better  than  the  mopey  Oliver  of  the 
last  two  weeks  and  a  half,  and  Mrs.  Crowe  had  been 
taught  by  a  good  deal  of  living  the  aseptic  powers 
of  having  to  go  through  the  motions  of  ordinary 
life  in  front  of  a  casual  audience,  even  when  it 
seemed  that  those  motions  were  no  longer  of  any 
account.  So  Oliver  took  clean  flannels  and  a  bitter 
mind  to  Southampton  on  the  last  day  of  August, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  got  off  the  train,  was  swung  into 
a  reel  of  consecutive  amusements  that,  fortunately, 
allowed  him  little  time  to  think. 

When  he  did,  it  was  only  to  wonder  rather  frigidly 
if  this  fellow  with  glasses  who  played  tennis  and 
danced  and  swam  and  watched  and  commented 
athletically  on  the  Davis  Cup  finals,  sitting  between 
Elinor  Piper  and  Juliet  Bellamy  whom  he  had  taken 
to  dances  off  and  on  ever  since  he  had  had  his  first 
pair  of  pumps,  could  really  be  he.  The  two  people 
didn't  feel  in  the  least  the  same. 

The  two  Mr.  Crowes,  he  thought.  "  Mr.  Oliver 
Crowe  —  meet  Mr.  Oliver  Crowe."  "  On  our  right, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  have  one  of  the  country's 
greatest  curiosities  —  a  young  gentleman  who  in 
sists  upon  going  on  existing  when  there  is  nothing 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  157 

at  all  that  makes  his  existence  useful  or  interesting 
or  proud.  A  very  realistic  wax  figure  that  will 
toddle,  shoot  a  line  and  play  almost  any  sort  of 
game  until  you  might  easily  believe  it  to  be  gen 
uinely  alive.  Mr.  Oliver  Crowe." 

The  house-party  was  to  last  a  week,  except  for 
Ted  Billett  who  would  have  to  go  back  after  Labor 
Day  —  and  before  eight  hours  of  it  were  over,  Oliver 
was  watching  Ted  with  grandmotherly  interest,  a 
little  mordant  jealousy,  and  humor,  that,  at  times, 
verged  toward  the  hysterical.  Nancy  —  and  es 
pecially  the  loss  of  her  —  had  made  him  sensitive 
as  a  skinless  man  to  the  winds  and  vagaries  of  other 
young  people  in  love  —  and  while  Ted  could  look 
at  and  talk  with  Elinor  Piper  and  think  himself  as 
safe  as  a  turtle  under  its  shell  from  the  observations 
and  discoveries  of  the  rest  of  the  party  he  could 
no  more  hide  himself  or  his  intentions  from  Oliver's 
painful  scrutiny  than  he  could  have  hidden  the  fact 
that  he  had  suddenly  turned  bright  green.  So 
Oliver,  a  little  with  the  sense  of  his  own  extreme 
generosity,  but  sincerely  enough  in  the  main,  began 
to  play  kind  shepherd,  confidante,  referee  and 
second-between-the-rounds  to  Ted's  as  yet  quite 
unexpressed  strivings  —  and  since  most  of  him  was 
only  too  willing  to  busy  itself  with  anything  but 
reminiscences  of  Nancy,  be  began  to  congratulate 


158  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

himself  shortly  that  under  his  entirely  unacknowl 
edged  guidance  things  really  seemed  to  be  getting 
along  very  well. 

And  here  too  his  streak  of  ineradicable  humor  — 
that  bright  plaything  made  out  of  knives  that  is  so 
fine  to  juggle  with  light-handedly  until  the  hand 
meets  it  in  its  descent  a  fraction  of  a  second  too 
soon  —  came  often  and  singularly  to  his  aid.  He 
could  see  himself  in  a  property  white  beard  stretch 
ing  feeble  hands  in  blessing  over  a  kneeling  and 
respectful  Elinor  and  Ted.  "  Bless  you  my  dear, 
dear  children  —  for  though  my  own  happiness  has 
gone  with  yester-year,  at  least  I  have  made  you  — 
find  each  other  —  and  perhaps,  when  you  sit  at 
evening  among  the  happy  shouts  of  your  pos 
terity  —  "  but  here  Oliver  broke  off  into  a  snort  of 
laughter. 

Of  course  Ted  had  confided  nothing  formally  as 
yet  —  but  then,  thought  Oliver  sourly  out  of  his 
own  experience,  he  wouldn't;  that  was  the  way  you 
always  felt;  and  Ted  had  never  been  a  person  of 
easy  confidences.  The  most  he  had  done  had  been 
to  take  Oliver  grimly  aside  from  the  dance  they 
had  gone  to  last  night  and  explain  in  one  ferocious 
and  muffled  sentence  delivered  half  at  Oliver  and 
half  at  a  large  tree  that  if  Hinky  Selvage  didn't 
stop  dancing  with  Elinor  that  way  he,  Ted,  would 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  159 

carry  him  unobtrusively  behind  a  bush  and  force 
him  to  swallow  most  of  his  own  front  teeth.  And 
again  Oliver,  looking  back  as  a  man  might  to  the 
feverish  details  of  a  major  operation,  realized  with 
cynic  mirth  that  that  was  a  very  favorable  symptom 
indeed.  Oh  everything  was  going  along  simply 
finely  for  Ted,  if  the  poor  fool  only  knew  it.  But 
that  he  would  no  more  believe  of  course  than  you 
would  a  dentist  who  told  you  he  wasn't  going  to 
hurt.  People  in  love  were  poor  fools  —  damn 
fools  —  unutterably  lucky,  unutterably  perfect  — 
fools. 

Ted  and  Oliver  must  have  one  talk  though  before 
it  all  happened  beyond  redemption  and  Ted  started 
wearing  that  beautiful  anesthetized  smile  and  began 
to  concoct  small  kindly  fatal  conspiracies  with 
Elinor  and  Oliver  and  some  nice  girl.  They 
hadn't  had  a  real  chance  to  talk  since  Oliver  came 
back  from  St.  Louis,  and  shortly  —  oh  very  shortly 
indeed  by  the  way  things  looked  —  the  only  thing 
they  would  be  able  to  talk  about  would  be  Elinor 
and  how  wonderful  she  and  requited  love  and 
young  happy  marriage  were  —  and  however  glad 
Oliver  might  be  for  Ted  and  his  luck  «he  really 
wouldn't  be  able  to  stand  that,  under  the  present 
circumstances,  for  very  long  at  a  time.  Ted  would 
be  gone  into  fortune  —  into  a  fortune  that  Oliver 


160  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

would  have  to  be  the  last  person  on  earth  to  grudge 
him  —  but  that  meant  the  end  of  eight  years  of 
fighting  mockery  and  friendship  together  as  surely 
as  if  those  years  were  marbles  and  Elinor  were 
dropping  them  down  a  well.  They  could  pick  it  up 
later  —  after  Ted  had  been  married  a  year  say  — 
but  it  would  have  changed  then,  it  wouldn't  be 
the  same. 

Oliver  smiled  rather  wryly.  He  wondered  if  that 
was  at  all  like  what  Ted  might  have  thought  when 
he  and  Nancy —  But  that  wasn't  comparable  in 
the  least.  But  Nancy  and  he  were  different. 
Nancy  —  and  with  that,  the  pain  came  so  dazzlingly 
for  a  minute  that  Oliver  had  to  shut  his  eyes  to  bear 
it  —  and  something  that  wasn't  just  stupidly  rude 
had  to  be  said  to  Juliet  Bellamy  in  answer  to  her 
loud  clear  question  as  to  whether  he  was  falling 
asleep. 

All  up  to  and  through  Labor  Day  Oliver  bluffed 
and  manoeuvered  like  the  head  of  a  small  but  vicious 
Balkan  State  in  an  International  Congress  for  Ted 
and  Elinor,  and  towards  tea-time,  decided  sardoni 
cally  that  it  was  quite  time  his  adopted  infants  took 
any  further  responsibilities  off  his  shoulders.  There 
was  no  use  delaying  conclusions  any  longer  — 
Oliver  felt  as  he  looked  at  his  victims  like  a  work 
manlike  god  who  simply  must  finish  the  rough 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  161 

draft  of  the  particular  world  he  is  fussing  with 
before  sunset,  in  spite  of  all  rebellious  or  slip 
shod  qualities  in  its  clay.  There  would  be  a 
dance  that  evening.  There  would  be,  Oliver  thought 
with  some  proprietary  pride,  a  large  senti 
mental  moon.  A  few  craftily  casual  words  with 
Elinor  before  dinner  —  a  real  talk  with  Ted  in  one 
of  the  intermissions  of  the  dance  —  a  watchdog 
efficiency  in  guarding  the  two  from  intrusion  while 
they  got  the  business  over  with  neatly  in  any  one 
of  several  very  suitable  spots  that  Oliver  had  picked 
out  already  in  his  mind's  eye.  And  then,  having 
thoroughly  settled  Ted  for  the  rest  of  his  years  in 
such  a  solid  and  satisfactory  way  —  perhaps  the 
queer  gods  that  had  everyone  in  charge,  in  spite 
of  their  fatal  leaning  toward  practical-joking  where 
the  literary  were  concerned,  might  find  enough 
applause  in  their  little  tin  hearts  for  Oliver's 
acquired  and  vicarious  merit  to  give  him  in  some 
strange  and  painful  way  another  chance  to  be 
alive  again  and  not  merely  the  present  wandering 
spectre-of-body  that  people  who  knew  nothing 
about  it  seemed  to  take  so  unreasonably  for  Oliver 
Crowe. 

So  he  laid  his  snares,  feeling  quite  like  Nimrod 
the  mighty,  though  outwardly  he  was  only  kneeling 
on  the  Piper  porch,  waiting  for  the  dice  to  come 


1 62  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

around  to  him  in  a  vociferous  game  of  crap  that 
Juliet  had  organized  —  he  seldom  shot  without  win 
ning  now  he  noticed  with  superstitious  awe.  And 
tea  passed  to  a  sound  of  muffled  crumpets,  and 
everyone  went  up  to  dress  for  dinner. 


XXIX 

MRS.  WINTERS'  little  apartment  on  West  79th 
Street  —  she  heads  letters  from  it  playfully  "  The 
Hen  Coop  "  for  there  is  almost  always  some  mem 
ber  of  her  own  sex  doing  time  with  the  generous 
Mrs.  Winters.  Mrs.  Winters  is  quite  celebrated  in 
St.  Louis  for  her  personally-conducted  tours  of  New 
York  with  stout  Middle-Western  matrons  or  spec 
tacled  school  girls  east  for  visits  and  clothes  —  Mrs. 
Winters  has  the  perfectly-varnished  manners,  the 
lust  for  retailing  unimportant  statistics  and  the 
supercilious  fixed  smile  of  a  professional  guide. 
Mrs.  Winters'  little  apartment,  that  all  the  friends 
who  come  to  her  to  be  fed  and  bedded  and  patron 
ized  tell  her  is  so  charmingly  New  Yorky  because 
of  her  dear  little  kitchenette  with  the  asthmatic 
gas-plates,  the  imitation  English  plate-rail  around 
the  dining-room  wall,  the  bookcase  with  real  books 
—  a  countable  number  of  them  —  and  on  top  of 
it  the  genuine  signed  photograph  of  Caruso  for 
which  Mrs.  Winters  paid  the  sum  she  always  makes 
you  guess  about,  at  a  charity-bazaar. 

Mrs.  Winters  herself  —  the  Mrs.  Winters  who  is 
163 


1 64  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

so  interested  in  young  people  as  long  as  they  will 
do  exactly  what  she  wants  them  to  —  every  inch 
of  her  from  her  waved  white  hair  to  the  black  jet 
spangles  on  her  dinner  gown  or  the  notes  of  her 
"  cultivated  "  voice  as  frosted  and  glittery  and  arti 
ficial  as  a  piece  of  glace  fruit.  And  with  her, 
Nancy,  dressed  for  dinner  too,  because  Mrs.  Winters 
feels  it  to  be  one's  duty  to  oneself  to  dress  for  dinner 
always,  no  matter  how  much  one's  guests  may  wish 
to  relax  —  Nancy  as  much  out  of  place  in  the  apart 
ment  whose  very  cushions  seem  to  smell  of  that 
modern  old-maidishness  that  takes  itself  for  superior 
feminist  virtue  as  a  crocus  would  be  in  an  exhibition 
of  wool  flowers  —  a  Nancy  who  doesn't  talk  much 
and  has  faint  blue  stains  under  her  eyes. 

"  So  everything  went  very  satisfactorily  indeed 
today,  dear  Nancy?  " 

Mrs.  Winters'  voice  implies  the  uselessness  of 
the  question.  Nancy  is  staying  with  Mrs.  Winters 
—  it  would  be  very  strange  indeed  if  even  the  least 
important  accompaniments  of  such  a  visit  were  not 
of  the  most  satisfactory  kind. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Winters.  Nothing  particularly  hap 
pened,  that  is  —  but  they  like  my  work." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  Mrs.  Winters  croons  at  her,  she  is 
being  motherly.  The  effect  produced  is  rather  that 
of  a  sudden  assumption  of  life  and  vicarious 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  165 

motherhood  on  the  part  of  a  small,  brightly-painted 
porcelain  hen. 

"  Then  they  will  be  sending  you  over  shortly,  no 
doubt?  Across  the  wide  wide  sea — "  adds  Mrs. 
Winters  archly,  but  Nancy  is  too  tired-looking  to 
respond  to  the  fancy. 

"  I  suppose  they  will  when  they  get  ready,"  she 
answers  briefly  and  returns  to  her  chicken-croquette 
with  the  thought  that  in  its  sleekness,  genteelness, 
crumblingness,  and  generally  unnourishing  qualities 
it  is  really  rather  like  Mrs.  Winters.  An  immense 
desire,  after  two  weeks  of  Mrs.  Winters'  mental 
and  physical  cuisine  for  something  as  hearty  and 
gross  as  the  mere  sight  of  a  double  planked  steak 
possesses  her  achingly  —  but  Mrs.  Winters  was  told 
once  that  she  "  ate  like  a  bird." 

"  Well,  in  that  case,  dear  Nancy,  you  certainly 
must  not  leave  New  York  indefinitely  without 
making  the  most  of  your  opportunities,"  Mrs. 
Winters'  tones  are  full  of  genteel  decision.  "  I 
have  made  out  a  little  list,  dear  Nancy,  of  some 
things  which  I  thought,  in  my  funny  old  way,  might 
possibly  be  worth  your  while.  We  will  talk  it  over 
after  dinner,  if  you  like  —  " 

"  Thank  you  so  much,  dear  Mrs.  Winters  "  says 
Nancy  with  dutiful  hopelessness.  She  is  only  too 
well  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Winters'  little  lists. 


1 66  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"As  an  artist,  as  an  artist,  dear  Nancy,  espe 
cially."  Mrs.  Winters  breathes  somewhat  heavily, 
"Things  That  Should  Interest  you.  Nothing 
Bizarre,  you  understand,  Nothing  Merely  Freakish 
— but  some  of  the  Things  in  New  York  that  I, 
Personally,  have  found  Worth  While." 

The  Things  that  Mrs.  Winters  Has  Found  Per 
sonally  Worth  While  include  a  great  many  public 
monuments.  She  will  give  Nancy  a  similar  list  of 
Things  Worth  While  in  Paris,  too,  before  Nancy 
sails  —  and  Nancy  smiles  acceptably  as  each  one 
of  them  is  mentioned. 

Only  Mrs.  Winters  cannot  see  what  Nancy  is 
thinking  —  for  if  she  did  she  might  become  start- 
lingly  human  at  once  as  even  the  most  perfectly 
poised  of  spinsters  is  apt  to  do  when  she  finds  a 
rat  in  the  middle  of  her  neat  white  bed.  For  Nancy 
is  thinking  quite  freely  of  various  quaint  and  ever 
lasting  places  of  torment  that  might  very  well  be 
devised  for  Mrs.  Winters  —  and  of  the  naked  fact 
that  once  arrived  in  Paris  it  will  matter  very  little 
to  anybody  what  becomes  of  her  and  least  of  all 
to  herself  —  and  that  Mrs.  Winters  doesn't  know 
that  she  saw  a  chance  mention  of  Mr.  Oliver  Crowe, 
the  author  of  "  Dancer's  Holiday "  today  in  the 
"  Bookman  "  and  that  she  cut  it  out  because  it  had 
Oliver's  name  in  it  and  that  it  is  now  in  the  smallest 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  167 

pocket  of  her  bag  with  his  creased  and  recreased 
first  letter  and  the  lucky  piece  she  had  from  her 
nicest  uncle  and  a  little  dim  photograph  of  Mr. 
Ellicott  and  half  a  dozen  other  small  precious 
things. 


XXX 

THE  dance  is  at  the  Piper's  this  time  —  the  last 
Piper  dance  of  the  Southampton  season  and  the 
biggest  —  other  people  may  give  dances  after  it 
but  everybody  who  knows  will  only  think  of  them 
as  relatively  pleasant  or  useless  addenda.  The  last 
Piper  Dance  has  been  the  official  period  to  the 
Southampton  summer  ever  since  Elinor's  dibut  — 
and  this  time  the  period  is  sure  to  be  bigger  and 
rounder  than  ever  since  it  closes  the  most  successful 
season  Southampton  has  ever  had. 

Nothing  very  original  about  its  being  a  mas 
querade,  from  Mr.  Piper  a  courteously  grey-haired 
mandarin  in  jade-green  robes  beside  Mrs.  Piper  — 
lovely  Mary  Embree  that  was  —  in  the  silks  of  a 
Chinese  empress,  heavy  and  shining  and  crusted 
as  the  wings  of  a  jeweler's  butterfly,  her  reticent 
eyes  watching  the  bright  broken  patterns  of  the 
dancing  as  impassively  as  if  she  were  viewing  men 
being  tortured  or  invested  with  honor  from  the 
Dragon  Throne,  to  Oliver,  a  diffident  Pierrot  who 
has  discovered  no  even  bearably  comfortable  way 
of  combining  spectacles  and  a  mask,  and  Peter  who 

168 


THE  LAST  PIPER  DANCE  HAS  BEEN  THE  OFFICIAL  PERIOD 
TO  THE  SOUTHAMPTON  SUMMER 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  169 

is  gradually  turning  purple  under  the  furs  of  a 
dancing  bear.  Nothing  much  out  of  the  ordinary 
in  the  tunes  and  the  three  orchestras  and  the  fact 
that  a  dozen  gentlemen  dressed  as  the  Devil  are 
finding  their  tails  very  inconvenient  as  regards  the 
shimmy  and  a  dozen  Joans  of  Arc  are  eying  each 
other  with  looks  of  dumb  hatred  whenever  they 
pass.  Nothing  singular  about  the  light-heart  throb 
of  the  music,  the  smell  of  powder  and  scent  and 
heat  and  flowers,  the  whole  loose  drifting  garland 
of  the  dancers,  blowing  over  and  around  the  floor 
in  the  idle  designs  of  sand,  floating  like  scraps  of 
colored  paper  through  a  smooth  wind  heavy  with 
music  as  the  hours  run  away  like  light  water  through 
the  fingers.  But  outside  the  house  the  Italian  gar 
dens  are  open,  little  lanterns  spot  them  like  elf- 
lights,  shining  on  hedge-green,  pale  marble;  the 
night  is  pallid  with  near  and  crowded  stars,  the  air 
warm  as  Summer  water,  sweet  as  dear  youth  A 

The  unmasking  is  to  take  place  at  midnight  and 
it  is  past  eleven  when  Oliver  drops  back  into  the 
stag  line  after  being  stuck  for  a  dance  and  a  half 
with  a  leaden-footed  human  flower-basket  who 
devoted  the  entire  time  to  nervous  giggles  and  the 
single  coy  statement  that  she  just  knew  he  never 
could  guess  who  she  was  but  she  recognized  him 
perfectly.  He  starts  looking  around  for  Ted. 


170  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

There  he  is,  scanning  the  clown's  parade  with  the 
eyes  of  an  anxious  hawk,  disgruntled  nervousness 
plain  in  every  line  of  his  body.  Then  Oliver  re 
members  that  he  saw  a  slim  Chinese  girl  in  loose 
blue  silks  go  off  the  floor  ten  minutes  or  so  ago 
with  a  tall  musketeer.  He  goes  over  and  touches 
Ted  on  a  particolored  arm  —  the  latter  is  dressed 
as  a  red  and  gilt  harlequin  —  and  feels  the  muscles 
he  touches  twitch  under  his  hand. 

"  Cigarette?  It's  getting  hotter  than  cotton  in 
here  —  they'll  have  to  open  more  windows  —  " 

"  What?  "  Then  recognizing  voice  and  glasses 
"  Oh  yeah  —  guess  so  —  awful  mob,  isn't  it?  "  and 
they  thread  their  way  out  into  the  cool. 

They  wander  down  from  the  porch  and  into  the 
gardens,  past  benches  where  the  talk  that  is  going 
on  seems  to  be  chiefly  in  throaty  undertones  and 
halts  nervously  as  their  steps  crunch  past. 

"The  beautiful  and  damned!"  says  Oliver 
amusedly,  then  a  little  louder  "  Amusez  vous  bien, 
mes  enjants  "  at  a  small  and  carefully  modulated 
shriek  that  comes  from  the  other  side  of  the  low 
hedge,  "  The  night's  still  young.  But  Good  Lord, 
isn't  there  any  place  in  the  whole  works  where  two 
respectable  people  can  sit  without  feeling  like 
chaperones?  " 

They  find  one  finally  —  it  is  at  the  far  end  of 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  171 

the  gardens  —  a  seat  the  only  reason  for  whose 
obvious  desertion  seems  to  be,  comments  Oliver, 
that  some  untactful  person  has  strung  a  dim  but 
still  visible  lantern  directly  above  it  —  and  relapses 
upon  it  silently.  It  is  not  until  the  first  cigarettes 
of  both  are  little  red  dying  stars  on  the  grass  be 
side  them  that  either  really  starts  to  talk. 

"  Cool,"  says  Oliver,  stretching  his  arms.  The 
night  lies  over  them  light  as  spray  —  a  great  swim 
ming  bath  and  quietness  of  soft  black,  hushed 
silver  —  above  them  the  whole  radiant  helmet  of 
heaven  is  white  with  its  stars.  From  the  house 
they  have  left,  glowing  yellow  in  all  its  windows, 
unreal  against  the  night  as  if  it  were  only  a  huge 
flat  toy  made  out  of  paper  with  a  candle  burning 
behind  it,  comes  music,  blurred  but  insistent,  faint 
as  if  heard  over  water,  dull  and  throbbing  like 
horse-hoofs  muffled  with  leather  treading  a  lonely 
road. 

"  Urn.     Good  party." 

"  Real  Piper  party,  Ted.  And,  speaking  of  Pipers, 
friend  Peter  certainly  seems  to  be  enjoying  him 
self—  " 

"  Really?  " 

"  Third  bench  on  the  left  as  we  came  down. 
Never  go  to  a  costume-party  dressed  as  a  dancing- 
bear  if  you  want  to  get  any  quiet  work  in  on  the 


1 72  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

side.  Rule  One  of  Crowe's  Social  Code  for  Our 
Own  First  Families." 

Ted  chuckles  uneasily  and  there  is  silence  for 
another  while  as  they  smoke.  Both  are  in  very  real 
need  of  talking  to  each  other  but  must  feel  their  way 
a  little  carefully  because  they  are  friends.  Then 

"  I,"  says  Ted  and 

"  You,"  says  Oliver,  simultaneously.  Both  laugh 
and  the  little  tension  that  has  grown  up  between 
them  snaps  at  once. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  Nancy's  and  my  en 
gagement  went  bust  about  three  weeks  ago,"  begins 
Oliver  with  elaborate  calm,  his  eyes  fixed  on  his 
shoes. 

Ted  clears  his  throat. 

"  Didn't  know.  Afraid  it  was  something  like 
that  though  —  way  you  were  looking,"  he  says, 
putting  his  words  one  after  the  other,  as  slowly  as 
if  he  were  building  with  children's  blocks.  "  What 
was  it?  "  Don't  tell  me  unless  you  want  to,  of 
course  —  you  know  — " 

"Want  to,  rather."  Ted  knows  that  he  is 
smiling,  and  how,  though  he  is  not  looking  at  his 
face.  "  After  all  —  old  friends,  all  that.  My  dear 
old  College  chum,"  but  the  mockery  breaks  down. 
"  My  fault,  I  guess,"  he  says  in  a  voice  like  metal. 

"It  was,  Ted.    Acted  like  a  fool.    And  then, 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  173 

this  waiting  business  —  not  much  use  going  over 
that,  now.    But  it's  broken.    Got  my  —  property 

—  such  as  it  was  all  back  in  a  neat  little  parcel 
two  weeks  ago.    That's  why  I  quit  friend  Vanamee 

—  you  ought  to  have  known  from  that." 

"Did,  I  suppose,  only  I  hoped  it  wasn't.  I'm 
damn  sorry,  Ollie. 

"  Thanks,  Ted." 

They  shake  hands,  but  not  theatrically. 

"  Oh  well  —  oh  hell  —  oh  dammit,  you  know  how 
blasted  sorry  I  am.  That's  all  I  can  say,  I  guess  —  " 

"  Well,  so  am  I.  And  it  was  my  fault,  chiefly. 
And  that's  all  I  can  say." 

"  Look  here,  though."  Ted's  voice  is  doing  its 
best  to  be  logical  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  two 
things,  the  fact  that  he  is  unutterably  sorry  for 
Oliver  and  the  fact  that  he  mustn't  show  it  in 
silly  ways,  are  fighting  in  him  like  wrestlers.  "  Are 
you  sure  it's  as  bad  as  all  that?  I  mean  girls  — " 
Ted  flounders  hopelessly  between  his  eagerness  to 
help  and  his  knowledge  that  it  will  take  ungodly 
tact.  "  I  mean,  Nancy's  different  all  right  —  but 
they  change  their  minds  —  and  they  come  around 

—  and  —  " 

Oliver  spreads  out  his  hands.  It  is  somehow 
queerly  comforting  not  to  let  himself  be  comforted 
in  any  degree. 


174  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"What's  the  use?  Tried  to  explain  —  got  her 
mother  —  Nancy  was  out  but  she  certainly  left  a 
message  —  easier  if  we  never  saw  each  other  again 

—  well —    Then  she  sent  back  everything  —  she 
knew  I'd  tried  to  phone  her  —  tried  to  explain  — 
never  a  word  since  then  except  my  name  and  address 
on  the  package  —  oh  it's  over,  Ted.     Feenee.     But 
it's  pretty  well  smashed  me.     For  the  present,  at 
least." 

"  But  if  you  started  it,"  Ted  says  stubbornly. 

"  Oh  I  did,  of  course  —  gentlemanly  supposition 
anyhow  —  that's  why  —  don't  you  see?  " 

"  Can't  say  I  do  exactly." 

"Well?" 

"  Well?  " 

"We're  both  of  us  too  proud,  Ted.  And  too 
poor.  And  starting  again  —  can't  you  —  visualize 

—  it  wouldn't  be  the  way  it  was  —  only  both  of 
us  thinking  about  that  all  the  time  —  and  still  we 
couldn't  get  married.    I've  got  less  right  than  ever, 
now  —  oh,  but  how  could  we   after  what  we've 
said  —  "  and  this  time  his  voice  has  lost  all  the 
attitudes  of  youth,  it  is  singularly  older  and  seems 
to  come  from  the  center  of  a  place  full  of  pain. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help,  though,  Ollie.  You  know," 
says  Ted. 

"  Wish  you  could."    Then  later,  "  Thanks." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  175 

"  Welcome." 

Both  smoke  and  are  silent  for  a  time,  remember 
ing  small  things  out  of  the  last  eight  years. 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do,  Ollie,  now  youVe 
kissed  the  great  god  Advertising  a  fond  good-by?  " 

Ollie  stirs  uneasily. 

"  Dunno  —  exactly.  I  told  you  about  those  two 
short  stories  Easten  wanted  me  to  take  out  of  my 
novel?  Well,  I've  done  it  and  sent  'em  in  —  and 
he'll  buy  'em  all  right." 

"That's  fine!" 

"  It's  a  little  money,  anyhow.  And  then  — 
remember  Dick  Lamoureux?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Got  a  letter  from  him  right  after  —  I  came  back 
from  St.  Louis.  Well,  he's  got  a  big  job  with  the 
American  Express  in  Paris  —  European  Advertising 
Manager  or  something  like  that  —  he's  been  crazy 
to  have  either  of  us  come  over  ever  since  that  idea 
of  the  three  of  us  getting  an  apartment  on  the  Rive 
Gauche  fell  through.  Well,  he  says,  if  I  can  come 
over,  he'll  get  me  some  sort  of  a  job  —  not  much 
to  go  on  at  first  but  they  want  people  who  are  will 
ing  to  stay  —  enough  to  live  on  anyway  —  I  want 
to  get  out  of  the  country,  Ted." 

"  Should  think  you  would.  Good  Lord  —  Paris! 
Why  you  lucky,  lucky  Indian!  "  says  Ted  affec 
tionately.  "  When'll  you  leave?  " 


176  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"Don't  know.  He  said  cable  him  if  I  really 
decided  —  think  I  will.  They  need  men  and  I  can 
get  a  fair  enough  letter  from  Vanamee.  I've  been 
thinking  it  over  ever  since  the  letter  came  —  won 
dering  if  I'd  take  it.  Think  I  will  now.  Well." 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  was  going  along,  Crowe." 

And  this  time  Oliver  is  really  able  to  smile. 

"  No,  you  don't." 

"  Oh  well  —  but,  honestly  —  well,  no,  I  suppose 
I  don't.  And  I  suppose  that's  something  you  know 
all  about,  too,  you  —  private  detective!  " 

"Private  detective!  Why,  you  poor  ass,  if  you 
haven't  noticed  how  I've  been  playing  godmother  to 
you  all  the  way  through  this  house-party  —  " 

"  I  have.  I  suppose  I'd  thank  anybody  else. 
Coming  from  you,  though,  I  can  only  say  that  such 
was  both  my  hope  and  my  expectation." 

"  Oh,  you  perfect  ass!  "  Both  laugh,  a  little  un 
steadily. 

"Well,  Ollie,  what  think?"  says  Ted,  finding 
some  difficulty  with  his  words  for  some  reason  or 
other. 

"  Think?  Can't  tell,  my  amorous  child.  Coldly 
considered,  I  think  you've  got  a  good  show  —  and 
I'm  very  strong  for  it,  needless  to  say  —  and  if  you 
don't  go  and  put  it  over  pretty  soon  I'll  be  intensely 
annoyed  —  one  of  the  pleasures  I've  promised  my- 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  177 

self  for  years  and  years  has  been  getting  most  dis 
gracefully  fried  at  your  wedding,  Ted." 

"  Well,  tonight  is  going  to  be  zero  hour,  I  think." 
Ted  proceeds  with  a  try  at  being  flippant  and  Oliver 
cackles  with  mirth. 

"I  knew  it.  I  knew  it.  Old  Uncle  Ollie,  the 
Young  Proposer's  Guide  and  Pocket  Companion." 
Then  his  voice  changes.  "  Luck,"  he  says  briefly. 

"  Thanks.    Need  it." 

"  Of  course  I'm  not  worthy,"  Ted  begins  diffi 
dently  but  Oliver  stops  him. 

"  They  never  are.  I  wasn't.  But  that  doesn't 
make  any  difference.  You've  got  to  —  n'est-ce 
pas?  " 

"You  old  bum!  Yes.  But  when  I  think 
of  it  —  " 

"  Don't" 

"  But  leaving  out  everything  else  —  it  seems  so 
damned  cheeky!  When  Elinor's  got  everything, 
including  all  the  money  in  the  world,  and  I  —  " 

"  We  talked  that  over  a  long  time  ago,  remember? 
And  remember  what  we  decided  —  that  it  didn't 
matter,  in  this  year  and  world  at  least.  Of  course 
I'm  assuming  that  you're  really  in  love  with  her  —  " 

"  I  am,"  from  Ted  very  soberly.  "  Oh  I  am, 
all  right." 

"  Well  then,  go  ahead.    And,  Theodore,  I  shall 


178  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

watch  your  antic  motions  with  the  greatest  sarcastic 
delight,  both  now  and  in  the  future  —  either  way  it 
breaks.  Moreover  I'll  take  anybody  out  of  the 
action  that  you  don't  want  around  —  and  if  there 
were  anything  else  I  could  do  —  " 

"  Got  to  win  off  my  own  service,"  says  Ted. 
"  You  know.  But  thanks  all  the  same.  Only  when 
I  think  of  —  some  incidents  of  Paris  —  and  how 
awful  near  I've  come  to  making  a  complete  fool  of 
myself  with  that  Severance  woman  in  the  last  month 
—  well  —  " 

"  Look  here,  Ted."  Oliver  is  really  worried. 
"  You're  not  going  to  let  that  —  interfere  —  are 
you?  Right  now?  " 

"I've  got  to  tell  her."  Ted's  smile  is  a  trifle 
painful.  "  Got  to,  you  know.  Oh  not  that.  But 
France.  The  whole  business." 

"  But  good  heavens,  man,  you  aren't  going  to 
make  it  the  start  of  the  conversation?  " 

"  Well  —  maybe  not.  But  it's  all  got  to  be  —  ex 
plained.  Only  way  I'll  ever  feel  decent  —  and  I 
don't  suppose  I'll  feel  too  decent  then." 

"  But  Ted  —  oh  it's  your  game,  of  course.  Only 
I  don't  think  it's  being  —  fair  —  to  either  of  you 
to  tell  her  just  now." 

"  Can't  help  it,  Ollie."  Ted's  face  sets  into  what 
Oliver  once  christened  his  "  mule-look."  "I've 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  179 

thought  it  over  backwards  and  sideways  and  all 
around  the  block  —  and  I  can't  squirm  out  of  it 
because  it'll  be  incredibly  hard  to  do.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,"  he  pauses,  "it'll  tell  itself,  you 
know,  probably,"  he  ends,  more  prophetically  than 
he  would  probably  care  to  know. 

"  Well,  I  simply  don't  see  —  " 

"Must,"  and  after  that  Oliver  knows  there  is 
very  little  good  of  arguing  the  point  much  further. 
He  has  known  Ted  for  eight  years  without  finding 
out  that  a  certain  bitter  and  Calvinistic  penchant  for 
self-crucifixion  is  one  of  his  ruling  forces  —  and  one 
of  those  least  easily  deduced  from  his  externals. 
Still  he  makes  a  last  effort. 

"  Now  don't  start  getting  all  tied  up  about  that. 
Keep  your  mind  on  Elinor." 

"That's  not  — hard." 

"  Good  —  I  see  that  you  have  all  the  proper  re 
actions.  And  you'll  excuse  me  for  saying  that  / 
don't  think  she's  too  good  for  you  —  and  even  if 
she  were  she'd  have  to  marry  somebody,  you  know 
—  and  when  you  put  it,  put  it  straight,  and  let  Paris 
and  everything  else  you're  worrying  about  go  plumb 
to  hell!  And  that's  good  advice." 

"  I  know  it.    I'll  tell  you  of  course." 

"Well,  I  should  think  you  would!  " 

Oliver  looks  at  his  watch. 


1 8o  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Great  Scott  —  they'll  be  unmasking  in  twenty 
minutes.  And  I've  got  to  go  back  and  cut  Juliet 
out  of  the  herd  and  take  her  to  supper  —  " 

They  rise  and  look  at  each  other.    Then 

"  Hope  this  is  the  last  time,  Ted,  old  fel  —  which 
isn't  any  reflection  on  the  last  eight  years  odd,"  says 
Oliver  slowly,  and  their  hands  grip  once  and  hard. 
Then  they  both  start  talking  fast  as  they  walk  back 
to  the  house  to  cover  the  unworthy  emotion.  But 
just  as  they  are  going  in  the  door,  Oliver  hisses  into 
Ted's  ear,  an  advisory  whisper, 

"  Now  go  and  eat  all  the  supper  you  can,  you 
idiot  —  it  always  helps." 


XXXI 

THE  parti-colored  harlequin  and  the  young  Chinese 
lady  in  blue  silks  are  walking  the  Italian  gardens, 
talking  about  nothing  in  particular.  Ted  has  man 
aged  to  discuss  the  moon  —  it  is  high  now,  a  round 
white  lustre  —  the  night,  which  is  warm  —  the  art 
of  garden  decoration,  French,  English  and  Italian  — 
the  pleasantness  of  Southampton  after  New  York  — 
all  with  great  nervous  fluency  but  so  completely  as 
if  he  had  met  Elinor  for  the  first  time  ten  minutes 
ago  that  she  is  beginning  to  wonder  why,  if  he  dis 
likes  her  as  much  as  that,  he  ever  suggested  leaving 
the  dance-floor  at  all. 

Ted,  meanwhile,  is  frantically  conscious  of  the 
fact  that  they  have  reached  the  end  of  the  garden, 
are  turning  back,  and  still  he  is  so  cripplingly  tongue- 
tied  about  the  only  thing  he  really  wishes  to  say 
that  he  cannot  even  get  the  words  out  to  suggest 
their  sitting  down.  It  is  not  until  he  stumbles  over  a 
pebble  while  passing  a  small  hard  marble  seat  set 
back  in  a  nest  of  hedge  that  he  manages  to  make  his 
first  useful  remark  of  the  promenade. 

"Ah  —  a  bench!  "  he  says  brightly,  and  then, 

181 


1 82  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

because  that  sounded  so  completely  imbecile, 
plunges  on. 

"Don't  you  want  to  sit  down  a  minute,  Elinor?  — 
I  —  you  —  it's  so  cool  —  so  warm,  I  mean  —  " 
He  closes  his  mouth  firmly  —  what  a  ghastly  way 
to  begin! 

But  Elinor  says  "  Yes  "  politely  and  they  try  to 
adapt  themselves  to  the  backless  ornamental  bench, 
Ted  nervously  crossing  and  recrossing  his  legs  until 
he  happens  to  think  that  Elinor  certainly  never 
would  marry  anybody  with  St.  Vitus'  Dance. 

"  Can't  tell  you  how  nice  it's  been  this  time, 
Elinor.  And  you've  been  —  "  There,  things  are  go 
ing  better  —  at  least,  he  has  recovered  his  voice. 

"  Why,  you  know  how  much  we  love  to  have  you, 
Ted,"  says  Elinor  and  Ted  feels  himself  turn  hot 
and  cold  as  he  was  certain  you  never  really  did  ex 
cept  in  diseases.  But  then  she  adds,  "  You  and 
Ollie  and  Bob  Templar,  and,  oh;  all  Peter's  friends." 

He  looks  at  her  steadily  for  a  long  moment  — 
the  blue  silks  of  her  costume  suit  her  completely. 
She  is  there,  black  hair  and  clear  eyes,  small  hands 
and  mouth  pure  as  the  body  of  a  dream  and  elvish 
with  thoughts  like  a  pansy  —  all  the  body  of  her, 
all  that  people  call  her.  And  she  is  so  delicately 
removed  from  him  —  so  clean  in  all  things  where  he 
is  not  —  that  he  knows  savagely  within  him  that 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  183 

there  can  be  no  real  justice  in  a  world  where  he 
can  even  touch  her  lightly,  and  yet  he  must 
touch  her  because  if  he  does  not  he  will  die. 
All  the  things  he  meant  to  say  shake  from  him  like 
scraps  of  confetti,  he  does  not  worry  any  more  about 
money  or  seeming  ridiculous  or  being  worthy,  all 
he  knows  at  all  in  the  world  is  his  absolute  need  of 
her,  a  need  complete  as  a  child's  and  so  choosing 
any  words  that  come. 

"Listen  —  do  you  like  me?"  says  the  parti 
colored  harlequin  and  all  the  sharp  leaves  of  the 
hedge  begin  to  titter  as  wind  runs  over  them  at 
one  of  the  oldest  and  least  sensible  questions  in  the 
world. 

The  young  Chinese  lady  turns  toward  the  harle 
quin.  There  is  some  laughter  in  her  voice  and  a 
great  deal  of  surprise. 

"Why,  Ted,  of  course  —  why,  why  shouldn't  I? 

—  You're  Peter's  friend  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that!  "  The  harlequin's  hands 
twist  at  each  other  till  the  knuckles  hurt,  but  he 
seems  to  have  recovered  most  voluble  if  chaotic 
powers  of  speech. 

"  That  was  silly,  asking  that  —  but  it's  hard  — 
when  you  care  for  anybody  so  much  you  can't  see 

—  when  you  love  them  till  they're  the  only  thing 
there  is  you  care  about  —  and  you  know  you're  not 


1 84  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

fit  to  touch  them  —  not  worthy  of  them  —  that 
they're  thousands  of  times  too  good  for  you  but  — 
oh,  Elinor,  Elinor,  I  just  can't  stand  it  any  more! 
Do  you  love  me,  Elinor,  because  I  love  you  as  I 
never  loved  anything  else  in  the  world?  " 

The  young  Chinese  lady  doesn't  seem  to  be  quite 
certain  of  just  what  is  happening.  She  has  started 
to  speak  three  times  and  stopped  each  time  while 
the  harlequin  has  been  waiting  with  the  suspense  of 
a  man  hanging  from  Heaven  on  a  pack-thread.  But 
then  she  does  speak. 

"I  think  I  do,  Ted  — oh,  Ted,  I  know  I  do," 
she  says  uncertainly  —  and  then  Oliver,  if  he  were 
there,  would  have  stepped  forward  to  bow  like  an 
elegant  jack-knife  at  the  applause  most  righteously 
due  him  for  perfect  staging,  for  he  really  could  not 
have  managed  better  about  the  kiss  that  follows  if 
he  had  spent  days  and  days  showing  the  principals 
how  to  rehearse  it. 

And  then  something  happens  that  is  as  sudden 
as  a  bubble's  going  to  pieces  and  most  completely 
out  of  keeping  with  any  of  Oliver's  ideas  on  how 
love  should  be  set  for  the  theatre.  For  "  Oh,  what 
am  I  doing?  "  says  the  harlequin  in  the  voice  of  a 
man  who  has  met  his  airy  double  alone  in  a  wood 
full  of  ghosts  and  seen  his  own  death  in  its  face,  and 
he  crumples  into  a  loose  bag  of  parti-colored  silks, 
his  head  in  his  hands. 


THE  YOUNG  CHINESE  LADY  Is  SHRINKING  INSIDE 
HER  SILKS 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  185 

It  would  be  nothing  very  much  to  any  sensible 
person,  no  doubt  —  the  picture  that  made  itself  out 
of  cold  dishonorable  fog  in  the  instant  of  peace 
after  their  double  release  from  pain.  It  was  only 
the  way  that  Elinor  looked  at  him  after  the  kiss  — 
and  remembering  the  last  time  he  saw  his  own 
diminished  little  image  in  the  open  eyes  of  a  girl. 

The  young  Chinese  lady  is  shrinking  inside  her 
silks  as  if  frost  had  touched  her  —  all  she  knows  is 
that  she  doesn't  understand.  And  then  there  is  the 
harlequin  looking  at  her  with  his  face  gone  sud 
denly  pinched  and  odd  as  if  he  had  started  to  torture 
himself  with  his  own  hands;  and  the  fact  that  he 
will  not  touch  her,  and  what  he  says. 

"Oh,  Elinor,  darling.  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you,  I 
can't." 

"  But  what  is  it,  Ted?  " 

"  It's  this  —  it's  what  I  meant  to  tell  you  before 
I  ever  told  you  I  loved  you  —  what  I  haven't  any 
right  not  to  tell  you  —  and  I  guess  that  the  fact 
I  didn't,  shows  pretty  well  what  sort  of  a  fellow  I 
am.  Do  you  really  think  you  know  about  me,  dear 
—  do  you  really  think  you  do?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,  Ted."  The  voice  is  still  a  little 
chill  with  the  fright  he  gave  her,  but  under  that  it 
is  beautifully  secure. 

"  Well,  you  don't.    And,  oh  Lord,  why  couldn't 


1 86  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

it  have  happened  before  I  went  to  France!  — be 
cause  then  it  would  have  been  all  different  and  I'd 
have  had  some  sort  of  a  right —  not  a  right,  maybe 
—  but  anyhow,  I  could  have  come  to  you  —  straight. 
I  can't  now,  dear,  that's  all." 

The  voice  halts  as  if  something  were  breaking  to 
pieces  inside  of  it. 

"  I  can't  bring  you  what  you'd  bring  me.  Oh, 
it  isn't  anything  —  physically  —  dangerous  —  that 
way  —  I  —  was  —  lucky."  The  words  space  them 
selves  as  slowly  as  if  each  one  of  them  burnt  like 
acid  as  it  came.  "  It's  —  just  —  that.  Just  that  — 
while  I  was  in  France  —  I  went  over  —  all  the 
hurdles  —  and  then  a  few  more,  I  guess  —  and  I've 
got  to  —  tell  you  about  it  —  because  I  love  you  — 
and  because  I  wouldn't  dare  love  you,  even  —  if  I 
didn't —  tell  you  the  truth.  You  see.  But,  oh  my 
God,  I  never  thought  it  would  —  hurt  so !  "  and  the 
parti-colored  body  of  the  harlequin  is  shaken  with 
a  painful  passion  that  seems  ridiculously  out  of 
keeping  with  his  motley.  But  all  that  the  young 
Chinese  lady  feels  is  that  for  a  single  and  brittle 
instant  she  and  somebody  else  had  a  star  in  their 
hands  that  covered  them  with  light  clean  silver,  and 
that  now  the  conjuror  who  made  the  star  out  of 
nothing  and  gave  it  to  her  is  showing  her  just  why 
there  never  was  any  star. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  187 

Moreover,  she  has  only  known  she  was  in  love 
for  the  last  five  minutes  —  and  that  is  hardly  long 
enough  for  her  to  discover  that  love  itself  is  too 
living  to  be  very  much  like  any  nice  girl's  dreams 
of  it  —  and  the  shock  of  what  Ted  has  said  has 
brought  every  one  of  her  mother's  reticent  acid 
hints  on  the  general  uncleanliness  of  Man  too 
prickling-close  to  her  mind.  And  she  can't  under 
stand  —  she  never  will  understand,  she  thinks  with 
dull  pain. 

"  Oh  how  could  you,  Ted?  How  could  you?  " 
she  says  as  he  waits  as  a  man  walking  the  plank 
might  wait  for  the  final  gentle  push  that  will  send 
him  overboard. 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  was  fine  of  you  to  tell  me  —  but 
it's  just  spoiled  everything  forever.  Oh,  Ted,  how 
could  you?  "  and  then  she  is  half-running,  half- 
walking,  up  the  path  toward  the  porch  and  all  she 
knows  is  that  she  must  get  somewhere  where  she  can 
be  by  herself.  The  harlequin  does  not  follow  her. 


XXXII 

OLIVER,  in  the  middle  of  a  painfully  vivid  dream 
in  which  he  has  just  received  in  the  lounge  of  a 
Yale  Club  crowded  with  whispering,  pointing  spec 
tators  the  news  that  Miss  Nancy  Ellicott  of  St. 
Louis  has  eloped  with  the  Prince  of  Wales,  wakes, 
to  hear  someone  stumbling  around  the  room  in  the 
dark. 

"  That  you,  Ted?  " 

"  Yes.    Go  to  bed." 

"  Can't  —  I'm  there.    What's  time?  " 

I 

"  'Bout  five,  I  guess."  Ted  doesn't  seem  to  want 
to  be  very  communicative. 

"  Urn."  A  pause  while  Oliver  remembers  what  it 
was  he  wanted  to  ask  Ted  about  and  Ted  undresses 
silently. 

"  Well  —  congratulations?  " 

Ted's  voice  is  very  even,  very  controlled. 

"Sorry,  Ollie.  Not  even  with  all  your  good 
advice." 

"  Honestly?  " 

"  Uh-huh." 

\ 

188 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  189 

"  Well,  look  here  —  better  luck  next  time,  any 
way.  It's  all  —  " 

"  It's  all  over,  Ollie.  I'm  getting  out  of  here  to 
morrow  before  most  of  them  are  up.  Special  break 
fast  and  everything  —  called  back  to  town  by  urgent 
legal  affairs."  He  laughs,  rather  too  barkingly  for 
Oliver  to  like  it. 

"Oh,  Hell!  " 

"  Correct." 

"  Well,  she's  —  " 

"  She's  an  angel,  Ollie.  But  I  had  to  tell  her  — 
about  France.  That  broke  it.  D'you  wonder?  " 

"  Oh,  you  poor,  damn,  honorable,  simple-minded, 
blessed,  blasted  fool!  Before  you'd  really  begun?  " 

Ted  hesitates.    "  Y-yes." 

"Oh,  hell!  " 

"  Well,  if  all  you  can  do  is  to  lie  back  in  bed 
there  and  call  on  your  Redeemer  when —  Sorry, 
Ollie.  But  I'm  not  feeling  too  pleasant  tonight." 

"Well,  I  ought  to  know  — " 

"  Forgot.    You  ought.    Well  —  you  do." 

"  But  I  don't  see  anything  yet  that  —  " 

"  She  does." 

"But  —  " 

"  Oh,  Ollie,  what's  the  use?  We  can  both  of  us 
play  Job's  comforter  to  the  other  because  we're 
pretty  good  friends.  But  you  can  see  how  my  tell- 


190  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

ing  her  would  —  oh  well  there  isn't  much  percentage 
in  hashing  it  over.  I've  done  what  I've  done.  If 
I'd  known  I'd  have  to  pay  for  it  this  way,  I  wouldn't 
have  —  but  there,  we're  all  made  like  that.  There's 
one  thing  I  can't  do  —  and  that  is  get  away 
with  a  thing  like  that  on  false  pretences —  I'd  rather 
shoot  the  works  on  one  roll  and  crap  than  use  the 
sort  of  dice  that  behave.  I  went  into  the  thing 
with  my  eyes  open  —  now  I've  got  to  pay  for  it  — 
well,  what  of  it?  It  wouldn't  make  all  the  difference 
to  a  lot  of  girls,  perhaps  —  a  lot  of  the  best  —  but 
it  does  to  Elinor  and  she's  the  only  person  I  want. 
If  I  can't  have  her,  I  don't  want  anything  —  but  if 
I've  made  what  all  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  Christians  that 
ever  sold  nickel  bars  of  chocolate  for  a  quarter 
would  call  a  swine  out  of  myself  —  well,  I'm  going 
to  be  a  first-class  swine.  So  put  on  my  glad  rags, 
Josie,  I'm  going  to  Rector's  and  hell!  " 

All  this  has  been  light  enough  toward  the  end  but 
the  lightness  is  not  far  from  a  very  real  despera 
tion,  all  the  same. 

"  Meaning  by  which?  "  Oliver  queries  uneasily. 

"  Meaning  by  which  that  some  of  my  address  for 
the  next  two-three  weeks  will  be  care  of  Mrs.  Rose 
Severance,  4th  floor,  the  Nineveh,  Riverside  Drive, 
New  York  —  you  know  the  place,  I  showed  it  to 
you  once  from  a  bus- top  when  we  were  talking  the 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  191 

mysterious  lady  over.  And  that  I  don't  think  Mr. 
Theodore  Billett  will  graduate  cum  laude  from 
Columbia  Law  School.  In  fact,  I  think  it  very 
possible  that  Mr.  Billett  will  join  Mr.  Oliver  Crowe, 
the  celebrated  unpublished  novelist  on  a  pilgrimage 
to  Paris  for  to  cure  their  broken  hearts  and  go  to 
the  devil  like  gentlemen.  Eh,  Ollie?  " 

"  Well,  that's  all  right  for  me/'  says  Oliver  com 
batively.  "And  I  always  imagined  we'd  find  each 
other  in  hell.  I'm  not  trying  to  be  inhospitable 
with  my  own  pet  red-hot  gridiron,  but  all  the 


same  —  " 


"  Now,  Crowe,  for  Pete's  sake,  it's  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning  and  I'm  catching  the  7.12  —  " 

And  Oliver  is  too  sleepy  to  argue  the  point.  Be 
sides  he  knows  quite  well  that  any  arguments  he 
can  use  will  only  drive  Ted,  in  his  present  state  of 
mind,  a  good  deal  farther  and  faster  along  the  road 
he  has  so  dramatically  picked  out  for  himself.  So, 
between  trying  to  think  of  some  means  of  putting 
either  sense  or  the  fear  of  God  into  Elinor  Piper, 
whatever  Ted  may  say  about  it,  and  wondering  how 
the  latter  would  take  a  suggestion  to  come  over  to 
Melgrove  for  a  while  instead  of  starting  an  immoral 
existence  with  that  beautiful  but  possessive  friend  of 
Louise's,  he  drops  off  to  sleep. 


XXXIII 

OLIVER  had  depended  on  Ted's  noisy  habits  in 
dressing  and  packing  to  wake  him  and  give  them  a 
chance  to  talk  before  Ted  left  —  but  when  he  woke 
it  was  to  hear  a  respectful  servantly  voice  saying 
"Ten  o'clock,  sir!"  and  his  first  look  around  the 
room  showed  him  that  Ted's  bed  was  empty  and 
Ted's  things  were  gone.  There  was  a  scribbled  note 
propped  up  against  the  mirror,  though. 

"  DEAR  OLLIE: 

"  So  long  —  and  thanks  for  both  good  advice 
and  sympathy.  The  latter  helped  if  the  former 
didn't.  Drop  me  a  message  at  2 52 A  as  soon 
as  you  decide  on  this  French  proposition.  I'm 
serious  about  it.  TED." 

By  the  time  he  had  read  this  through,  Oliver 
began  to  feel  rather  genuinely  alarmed. 

He  could  not  believe  that  the  whole  affair  between 
Ted  and  Elinor  Piper  had  gone  so  utterly  wrong 
as  the  note  implied  —  he  had  had  a  whimsical  super 
stition  that  it  must  succeed  because  he  was  playing 
property  man  to  it  after  his  own  appearance  as 

192 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  193 

Romeo  had  failed  —  but  he  knew  Ted  and  the  two 
years'  fight  against  the  struggling  nervous  restless 
ness  and  discontent  with  everything  that  didn't  have 
either  speed  or  danger  in  it  that  the  latter,  like  so 
many  in  his  position,  had  had  to  make.  His  mouth 
tightened  —  no  girl  on  earth,  even  Nancy,  could 
realize  exactly  what  that  meant  —  the  battle  to 
recover  steadiness  and  temperance  and  sanity  in  a 
temperament  that  was  in  spite  of  its  poised  externals 
most  brilliantly  sensitive,  most  leapingly  responsive 
to  all  strong  stimuli  —  a  temperament  moreover 
that  the  war  and  the  armistice  between  them  had 
turned  wholly  toward  the  stimuli  of  fever  —  and 
Ted  had  made  it  with  neither  bravado  nor  bluster 
and  without  any  particular  sense  of  doing  very  much 

—  and  now  this  girl  was  going  to  smash  it  and  him 
together  as  if  she  were  doing  nothing  more  im 
portant  than  playing  with  jackstones 

He  remembered  a  crowd  'of  them  talking  over 
suicide  one  snowy  night  up  in  Coblenz  —  young 
talk  enough  but  Ted  had  been  the  only  one  who 
really  meant  it  —  he  had  got  quite  vehement  on 
picking  up  your  proper  cue  for  exit  when  you  knew 
that  your  part  was  through  or  you  were  tired  of 
the  part.  He  remembered  cafe  hangers-on  in  Paris 

—  college  men  —  men  who  could  talk  or  write  or 
teach  or  do  any  one  of  a  dozen  things  —  but  men 


194  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

who  had  crumbled  with  intention  or  without  it 
under  the  strain  of  the  war  and  the  snatches 
of  easy  living  to  excess,  and  now  had  about 
them  in  everything  they  said  or  wore  a  faint  air  of 
mildew;  men  who  stayed  in  Paris  on  small  useless 
jobs  while  their  linen  and  their  language  verged 
more  and  more  toward  the  soiled  second-hand  — 
who  were  always  meaning  to  go  home  but  never 
went.  If  Ted  went  to  Paris  —  with  his  present 
mind.  Why  Ted  was  his  best  friend,  Oliver 
realized  with  a  little  queer  shock  in  his  mind  —  it 
was  something  they  had  never  just  happened  to 
say  that  way.  And  therefore.  Far  be  it  from 
Oliver  to  be  rude  to  the  daughter  of  his  hostess,  but 
some  things  were  going  to  be  explained  to  Miss 
Elinor  Piper  if  they  had  to  be  explained  by  a  public 
spanking  in  the  middle  of  the  Jacobean  front  hall. 
But  then  there  was  breakfast,  at  which  few  girls 
appeared,  and  Elinor  was  not  one  of  the  few.  And 
then  Peter  insisted  on  going  for  a  swim  before  lunch 
—  and  then  lunch  with  Elinor  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table  and  Juliet  Bellamy  talking  like  a  me 
chanical  piano  into  Oliver's  ear  so  that  he  had  to 
crane  his  neck  to  see  Elinor  at  all.  What  he  saw, 
however,  reassured  him  a  little  —  for  he  had  always 
thought  Elinor  one  of  the  calmest  young  persons  in 
the  world,  and  calm  young  persons  do  not  generally 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  195 

keep  adding  spoonfuls  of  salt  abstractedly  to  their 
clam-broth  till  the  mixture  tastes  like  the  bottom 
of  the  sea. 

But  even  at  that  it  was  not  till  just  before  tea- 
time  that  Oliver  managed  to  cut  her  away  from  the 
vociferous  rest  of  the  house-party  that  seemed  bent 
on  surrounding  them  both  with  the  noise  and  public 
ity  of  a  private  Coney  Island.  Peter  has  expressed 
a  fond  desire  to  motor  over  to  a  little  tea-room  he 
knows  where  you  can  dance  and  the  others  had  re 
ceived  the  suggestion  with  frantic  applause.  Oliver 
was  just  starting  downstairs  after  changing  his 
shoes,  cursing  house-party  manners  in  general  and 
Juliet  Bellamy  in  particular  all  over  his  mind  when 
Elinor's  voice  came  up  to  him  from  below. 

"  No,  really,  Petey.  No,  I  know  it's  rude  of  me 
but  honestly  I  am  tired  and  if  I'm  going  to  feel  like 
anything  but  limp  tulle  this  evening.  No,  I'm 
perfectly  all  right,  I  just  want  to  rest  for  a  little 
while  and  I  promise  I'll  be  positively  incandescent 
at  dinner.  No,  Juliet  dear,  I  wouldn't  keep  you  or 
anybody  else  away  from  Peter's  nefarious  projects 
for  the  world  —  " 

That  was  quite  enough  for  Oliver  —  he  tiptoed 
back  and  hid  in  his  own  closet  —  wondering  mildly 
how  he  was  going  to  explain  his  presence  there  if 
a  search  party  opened  the  door.  He  heard  a  chorus 


196  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

of  voices  calling  him  from  below,  first  warningly, 
then  impatiently  —  heard  Peter  bounce  up  the  stairs 
and  yell  "Ollie!  Ollie,  you  slacker!  "  into  his  own 
room  —  and  then  finally  the  last  motor  slurred 
away  and  he  was  able  to  creep  out  of  his  shell. 

He  met  Elinor  on  the  stairs  —  looking  encourag 
ingly  droopy,  he  thought. 

"  Why  Ollie,  what's  the  matter?  The  pack  was 
howling  for  you  all  over  the  house  —  they've  all 
gone  over  to  the  Sharley  —  look,  I'll  get  you  a 
car  —  "  She  went  down  a  couple  of  steps  toward 
the  telephone. 

Oliver  immediately  and  without  much  difficulty 
put  on  his  best  expression  of  blight. 

"  Sorry,  El  —  must  have  dropped  off  to  sleep," 
he  said  unblushingly.  "  Lay  down  on  my  bed  to 
sort  of  think  some  things  over  —  and  that's  what 
happens  of  course.  But  don't  bother  —  " 

"  It's  no  trouble.  I  could  take  you  over  myself 
but  I  was  so  sort  of  fagged  out  —  that's  why  I 
didn't  go  with  them,"  she  added  —  a  little  uncer 
tainly  he  noticed. 

"  And  —  oh  it's  just  being  silly  and  tired  I  sup 
pose,  but  all  of  them  together  —  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Oliver  and  hoped  his  voice  had 
sounded  appropriately  bitter.  "  No  reflections  on 
you  or  Peter,  El,  you  both  understand  and  you've 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  197 

both  been  too  nice  for  words  —  but  some  of  the 
others  sometimes  —  " 

"  Oh  I'm  sorry,"  said  Elinor  contritely,  and  Oliver 
felt  somewhat  as  if  he  were  swindling  her  out  of 
sympathy  she  probably  needed  for  herself  by  de 
liberately  calling  attention!  to  his  own  cut  finger. 
But  it  had  to  be  done  —  there  wasn't  any  sense  in 
both  of  them,  he  and  Ted,  walking  crippled  when 
one  of  them  might  be  able  to  doctor  the  other  up 
by  just  giving  up  a  little  pride.  He  went  on. 

"  So  I  thought  —  I'd  just  stay  around  here  with 
a  book  or  something  —  get  some  tea  from  your 
mother,  later,  if  she  were  here  —  " 

"  Why,  I  can  do  that  much  for  you,  Ollie,  anyway. 
Let's  have  it  now." 

"  But  look  here,  if  you  were  going  to  do  any 
thing  — "  knowing  that  after  that  she  could  hardly 
say  so,  even  if  she  were. 

"  Oh  no.  And  besides,  with  both  of  us  here  and 
both  of  us  blue  it  would  be  silly  if  we  went 
and  were  melancholy  at  each  other  from  opposite 
sides  of  the  house."  She  tried  to  be  enthusiastic. 
"And  ^there's  strawberry  jam  and  muffins  some 
where —  the  kind  that  Peter  makes  himself  such 
a  pig  about  —  " 

"  Well,  Elinor,  you  certainly  are  a  friend  —  " 

A  little  later,  in  a  quiet  corner  of  the  porch  with 


198  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

the  tea-steam  floating  pleasantly  from  the  silver 
nose  of  its  pot  and  a  decorous  scarlet-and  yellow 
still-life  of  muffins  and  jam  between  them,  Oliver  felt 
that  so  far  things  had  slid  along  as  well  as  could 
be  expected.  Elinor's  manners  in  the  first  place 
and  her  genuine  liking  for  him  in  the  second  had 
come  to  his  help  as  he  knew  they  would  —  she  was 
too  concerned  now  with  trying  to  comfort  him  in 
small  unobtrusive  ways  to  be  on  her  guard  herself 
about  her  own  troubles.  All  he  had  to  do,  he  knew, 
was  to  sit  there  and  look  ostentatiously  broken 
hearted  to  have  the  conversation  move  in  just  the 
directions  he  wished  and  that,  though  it  made  him 
feel  shameless  was  not  exactly  difficult  —  all  he 
required  was  a  single  thought  of  the  last  three  weeks 
to  make  his  acting  sour  perfection  itself.  "  Greater 
love  hath  no  man  than  this,"  he  thought  with  a 
grotesque  humor  —  he  wondered  if  any  of  the  cele 
brated  story-book  patterns  of  friendship  from 
Damon  and  Jonathan  on  would  have  found  things 
quite  so  easy  if  they  had  had  to  take  not  their  lives 
but  most  of  their  most  secret  and  painful  inwards 
and  put  them  down  on  a  tea-table  like  a  new  species 
of  currant  bun  under  the  eyes  of  a  friendly  acquaint 
ance  to  help  their  real  friends. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  awfully  decent  it  was  of 
you  and  Peter,"  he  began  finally  after  regarding  a 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  199 

buttered  muffin  for  several  minutes  as  if  it  were 
part  of  the  funeral  decorations  for  dead  young 
love.  "  Asking  me  out  here,  just  now.  Oh  I'll 
write  you  a  charming  bread-and-butter  letter  of 
course  —  but  I  wanted  to  tell  you  really  —  "  He 
stopped  and  let  the  sentence  hang  with  malice  afore 
thought.  Elinor's  move.  Trust  Elinor.  And  the 
trust  was  justified  for  she  answered  as  he  wanted 
her  to,  and  at  once. 

"  Why  Ollie,  as  if  it  was  anything  —  when  we've 
all  of  us  more  or  less  grown  up  together,  haven't 
we  —  and  you  and  Peter  —  "  She  stopped  —  oh 
what  was  the  use  of  being  tactful!  "I  suppose 
it  sounds  —  put  on  —  and  —  sentimental  and  all 
that  —  saying  it,"  she  laughed  nervously,  "  but  we 
—  all  of  us  —  Peter  and  myself  —  we're  so  really 
sorry  —  if  you'll  believe  us  —  only  it  was  hard  to 
know  if  you  wanted  to  have  us  say  so  —  how 
awfully  sorry  we  were.  And  then  asking  you  out 
here  with  this  howling  mob  doesn't  seem  much 
like  it,  does  it?  but  Peter  was  going  to  be  here  — 
and  Ted  —  and  I  knew  what  friends  you'd  been  in 
college  —  I  thought  maybe  —  but  I  just  didn't  want 
you  to  think  it  was  because  we  didn't  care  — " 

"  I  know  —  and  —  and  —  thanks  —  and  I  do  ap 
preciate,  Elinor."  Oliver  noticed  with  some  slight 
terror  that  his  own  voice  seemed  to  be  getting  a 


200  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

little  out  of  control.  But  what  she  had  just  said 
took  away  his  last  doubt  as  to  whether  she  was 
really  the  kind  of  person  Ted  ought  to  marry  —  and 
in  spite  of  feeling  as  if  he  were  trapping  her  into  a 
surgical  operation  she  knew  nothing  about,  he  kept  on. 

"  It  gets  pretty  bad,  sometimes,"  he  said  simply 
and  waited.  Last  night  —  if  things  came  out  right 
later  —  will  have  been  just  what  Elinor  needed 
most,  he  decided  privately.  She  had  always  struck 
him  as  being  a  little  too  aloof  to  be  quite  human 
—  but  she  was  changing  under  his  eyes  to  a  very 
human  variety  of  worried  young  girl. 

"  Well,  isn't  there  something  we  can  really  do?  " 
she  said  diffidently,  then  changing, 

"  Oh  I  mean  it  —  if  you  don't  think  it's  only  — 
probing  —  asking  that?  "  as  she  changed  again. 

"  Not  a  thing  I'm  afraid,  Elinor,  though  I  really 
do  thank  you."  He  hated  his  voice  —  it  sounded 
so  brave.  "  It's  just  finished,  that's  all.  Can't 
kick  very  well.  Oh  no,"  as  she  started  to  speak, 
"  it  doesn't  hurt  to  talk  about,  really.  Helps,  more. 
And  Peter  and  Ted  help  too  —  especially  Ted." 

He  watched  her  narrowly  —  changing  color  like 
that  must  mean  a  good  deal  with  Elinor. 

Then  "  Why  Ted?  "  she  said,  almost  as  if  she 
were  talking  to  herself  and  then  started  to  try  and 
make  him  see  that  that  didn't  matter  —  a  spectacle 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  201 

to  which  he  remained  gratifiedly  blind.  He  ad 
dressed  his  next  remarks  at  the  dish  of  jam  so  that 
she  wouldn't  be  able  to  catch  his  eye. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  slamming  Peter's  sympathetic  soul, 
El,  you  know  I'm  not  — but  Ted  and  I  just  happened 
to  go  through  such  a  lot  of  the  war  and  after  it 
together  —  and  then  Ted  saw  a  good  deal  more  of 
Nancy.  Peter's  delightful.  And  kind.  But  he 
does  assume  that  because  lots  of  people  get 
engaged  and  disengaged  again  all  over  the  lot  these 
days  as  if  they  were  cutting  for  bridge-partners  there 
isn't  anything  particularly  serious  in  things  like  that. 
Nothing  to  really  make  you  make  faces  and  bust, 
that  is.  Well,  ours  happened  to  be  one  of  the  other 
kind  —  that's  the  difference.  And  Peter,  well, 
Peter  isn't  exactly  the  soul  of  constancy  when  it 
comes  to  such  matters  —  " 

"Peter  —  oh  Peter  —  if  you  knew  the  millions 
of  girls  that  Peter's  kept  pictures  of  —  " 

"Well,  I've  heard  all  about  the  last  hundred 
thousand  or  so,  I  think.  But  there's  perfect  safety 
in  thousands.  It's  when  you  start  being  so  stal 
wart  and  sure  and  manly  about  one  —  " 

Oliver  spread  out  his  hands.  Elinor's  color  — 
the  way  it  fluctuated  at  least  —  was  most  encourag 
ing.  So  was  the  fact  that  she  had  tried  to  butter 
her  last  muffin  with  the  handle  of  her  knife. 


202  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  if  a  girl  really  cared  about 
a  man  she  could  let  anything  —  "  she  said  and  then 
stopped  with  a  burning  flush.  And  now  Oliver 
knew  that  he  had  to  be  very  careful.  He  looked 
over  his  tools  and  decided  that  infantile  bitterness 
was  best. 

"  Girls  are  girls,"  he  said  shortly,  stabbing  a 
muffin.  "  They  tell  you  they  do  and  then  they  tell 
you  they  don't  —  that's  them." 

"  Oliver  Crowe,  I  never  heard  such  a  nasty, 
childish  seventeen-year-old  idea  from  you  in  my 
whole  life!  "  Oh  what  would  calm  Mrs.  Piper 
say  if  she  could  see  Elinor,  eyes  cloudy  with  anger, 
leaning  across  the  tea-wagon  and  emphasizing  her 
points  by  waves  of  a  jammy  knife  as  she  defends 
constancy  and  romance!  "They  do  not!  When 
a  girl  cares  for  a  man  —  and  she  knows  he  cares 
for  her  —  she  doesn't  care  about  anything  else, 
she  —  " 

"That's  what  Nancy  said,"  remarked  Oliver 
placidly  out  of  his  muffin.  "  And  then  —  " 

"  Well,  you  know  I'm  sorry  for  you  —  you  know 
I'm  just  as  sorry  for  you  as  I  can  be,"  went  on 
Elinor  excitedly.  "  But  all  the  same,  my  dear  Ollie, 
you  have  no  right  in  the  least  to  say  that  just  be 
cause  one  girl  has  broken  her  engagement  with  you, 
all  girls  are  the  same.  I  know  dozens  of  girls — " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  203 

"  So  do  I,"  from  Oliver,  quietly.  "  Dozens. 
And  they're  just  the  same." 

"  They  aren't.  And  I  haven't  the  slightest  wish 
to  suggest  that  it  was  your  fault,  Oliver  —  but  no 
girl  as  sweet  and  friendly  and  darling  as  Nancy 
Ellicott,  the  little  I  knew  of  her  that  is,  but  other 
girls  can  tell,  and  she  certainly  thought  you  were 
the  person  that  made  all  the  stars  come  out  in  the 
sky  and  twinkle,  would  go  and  break  her  engage 
ment  entirely  of  her  own  accord  —  you  must 
have  —  " 

And  now  Oliver  looked  at  her  with  a  good  deal 
of  sorrowful  pity  —  she  had  delivered  herself  so 
completely  into  his  hands. 

"  I  never  said  it  was  her  fault,  Elinor,"  he  said 
gently,  keeping  the  laughter  back  by  a  superb  effort 
of  will.  "  It  was  mine,  I  am  sure,"  and  then  he 
added  most  sorrowfully,  "  All  mine." 

"  Well!  " 

For  a  moment  he  forgot  that  he  was  there  playing 
checkers  with  himself  and  Elinor  for  Ted. 

"  You've  never  been  through  it,  have  you?  "  he 
said  rather  fiercely.  "  You  can't  have  —  you 
couldn't  talk  like  that  if  you  had.  When  you've 
put  everything  you've  got  in  mind  or  body  or  soul 
completely  in  one  person's  hands  and  then,  just 
because  of  a  silly  misunderstanding  we  neither  of 


204  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

us  meant  —  they  drop  it  —  and  you  drop  with  it  and 
the  next  thing  you  know  you're  nothing  but  a  mess 
and  all  you  can  wonder  is  if  even  the  littlest  part 
of  you  will  ever  feel  whole  again  —  "  He  realized 
that  he  was  very  nearly  shouting,  and  then,  sud 
denly,  that  if  he  kept  on  this  way  the  game  was 
over  and  lost.  He  must  think  about  Ted,  not 
Nancy.  Ted,  Ted.  Mr.  Theodore  Billett,  Jr. 

"  She'd  forgiven  me  such  a  lot,"  he  ended  rather 
lamely.  "  I  thought  she'd  keep  on." 

But  his  outburst  had  only  made  Elinor  feel  the 
sorrier  for  him  —  he  felt  like  a  burglar  as  he  saw 
the  kindness  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  imagine  she  ever  had  such  an  awful 
lot  to  forgive,  Ollie,"  she  said  gently. 

Then  the  lie  he  had  been  leading  up  to  all  the 
way  came  at  last,  magnificently  hesitant. 

"  She  had,  Elinor.     I  was  in  France  you  know." 

He  was  afraid  when  he  had  said  it  —  it  sounded 
so  much  like  a  title  out  of  a  movie  —  but  he  looked 
steadily  at  her  and  saw  all  the  color  go  out  of  her 
face  and  then  return  to  it  burningly. 

"Well,  that  wasn't  anything  to  be  —  forgiven 
about  exactly  —  was  it?  "  she  said  unsteadily. 

He  spoke  carefully,  in  broken  sentences,  only  the 
knowledge  that  this  was  the  only  way  he  could  think 
of  to  help  things  nerving  his  mind. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  205 

"  It  wasn't  being  in  France,  Elinor.  It  was  — 
the  adjuncts.  I  don't  suppose  I  was  any  worse 
than  most  of  my  outfit  —  but  that  didn't  make  it  any 
easier  when  I  had  to  tell  her  I  hadn't  been  any 
better.  I  felt,"  his  voice  rose,  his  literary  trick  of 
mind  had  come  to  his  rescue  now  and  made  him 
know  just  how  he  would  have  felt  if  it  had  really 
happened,  "  I  felt  as  if  I  were  in  hell.  Really.  But 
I  had  to  tell  her.  And  when  she'd  forgiven  me 
that  —  and  said  that  it  was  all  right  —  that  it  didn't 
make  any  real  difference  now  —  I  thought  she  was 
about  the  finest  person  in  the  world  —  for  telling 
me  such  nice  lies.  And  after  that  —  I  was  so  sure 
that  it  was  all  right  —  that  because  of  her  knowing 
and  still  being  able  to  care  —  it  would  last  —  oh 
well  —  " 

He  stopped,  waiting  for  Elinor  but  Elinor  for  a 
person  so  voluble  a  little  while  ago  seemed  curiously 
unwilling  to  speak. 

"  Lord  knows  why  I'm  telling  you  this  —  except 
that  we  started  arguing  and  you're  nice  enough  to 
listen.  It's  not  tea-table  conversation,  or  it 
wouldn't  have  been  ten  years  ago  —  and  if  I've 
shocked  you,  I'm  sorry.  But  after  that,  as  I  said 
—  I  didn't  think  there  was  anything  that  could 
separate  us  —  really  I  didn't  —  and  then  just  one 
little  time  when  we  didn't  quite  understand  each 


206  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

other  and  —  over.  Sorry  to  spoil  your  illusions, 
Elinor,  but  that's  the  way  people  do." 

"  But  how  could  she?  "  and  this  time  there  was 
nothing  but  pure  hurt  questioning  in  Elinor's  voice 
and  the  words  seemed  to  hurt  her  as  if  she  were 
talking  needles.  "  Why  Ollie  —  she  couldn't  pos 
sibly  —  if  she  really  cared  —  " 

All  he  wondered  was  which  of  them  would  break 
first. 

"  She  could,"  he  said  steadily,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  everything  in  his  mind  kept  saying  "  No.  No. 
No."  "  Any  girl  could  —  easily.  Even  you,  Elinor 
—  if  you'll  excuse  my  being  rude  —  " 

For  a  moment  he  thought  that  his  carefully 
plotted  scenario  was  going  to  break  up  into  melo 
drama  with  the  reticent,  composed  and  sympathetic 
Elinor's  suddenly  rising  and  slapping  his  face.  Then 
he  heard  her  say  in  a  voice  of  utter  anger, 

"  How  can  you  say  anything  like  that,  how  can 
you?  You  are  being  the  most  hateful  person  that 
ever  lived.  Why  if  I  really  cared  for  anyone  — 
if  I  ever  really  cared  —  "  and  then  she  began  to 
cry  most  steadily  and  whole-heartedly  into  her 
napkin  and  Oliver  in  spite  of  all  the  generous 
plaudits  he  was  receiving  from  various  parts  of  his 
mind  for  having  carried  delicate  business  success 
fully  to  a  most  dramatic  conclusion,  wondered  what 
in  the  name  of  Hymen  his  cue  was  now. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  207 

Some  remnants  of  diplomacy  however  kept  him 
from  doing  anything  particularly  obtrusive  and, 
after  he  had  received  an  official  explanation  of  ner 
vous  headache  with  official  detachment,  the  end  of 
tea  found  them  being  quite  cheerful  together. 
Neither  alluded  directly  to  what  both  thought  about 
most  but  in  spite  of  that  each  seemed  inwardly  con 
vinced  of  being  completely  if  cryptically  under 
stood  by  the  other  and  when  the  noise  of  the  first 
returning  motor  brought  a  friendly  plotter's  "  You 
talk  to  them —  they  mustn't  see  me  this  way," 
from  Elinor  and  a  casual  remark  from  Oliver  that 
he  felt  sure  he  would  have  to  run  into  town  for 
dinner  —  family  had  forwarded  a  letter  from  an 
editor  this  morning  —  so  if  she  wanted  anything 
done  —  they  seemed  to  comprehend  each  other  very 
thoroughly. 

He  babbled  with  the  returning  jazzers  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  tactfully  circumvented 
Peter  into  offering  him  the  loan  of  a  car  since  he 
had  to  go  into  New  York,  and  intimated  that  he 
would  drop  back  and  in  at  the  Rackstraws'  dance 
as  soon  as  possible,  after  many  apologies  for  daring 
to  leave  at  all.  Then  he  went  slowly  upstairs,  hum 
ming  loudly  as  he  did  so.  Elinor  met  him  outside 
his  door. 

"  Ollie  —  as  long  as  you're  going  in  —  I  wonder 


208  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

if  you'd  mind  —  "  Her  tone  was  elaborately  care 
less  but  her  eyes  were  dancing  as  she  gave  him  a 
letter,  firmly  addressed  but  unstamped. 

"  No,  glad  to  —  "  And  then  he  grinned.  "  You'll 
be  at  the  Rackstraws'." 

"Yes,  Ollie." 

"  Well  —  we'll  be  back  by  ten  thirty  or  try  to. 
Maybe  earlier,"  he  said  at  her  back  and  she  turned 
and  smiled  once  at  him.  Then  he  went  into  his 
room. 

"  Mr.  Theodore  Billett,"  said  the  address  on  the 
letter,  "  2 52 A  Madison  Ave.,  N.  Y.  C.,"  and  down 
in  the  lower  corner,  "  Kindness  of  Mr.  Oliver 
Crowe." 

He  thought  he  might  very  well  ask  for  the  latter 
phrase  on  Ted's  and  Elinor's  wedding  invitations. 
He  passed  a  hand  over  his  forehead  —  that  had 
been  harder  than  walking  a  tight-rope  with  your 
head  in  a  sack  —  but  the  chasm  had  been  crossed 
and  nothing  was  left  now  but  the  fireworks  on  the 
other  side.  How  easy  it  was  to  tinker  other 
people's  love-affairs  for  them  —  for  oneself  the 
difficulties  were  somehow  a  little  harder  to  manage, 
he  thought.  And  then  he  began  considering  how 
long  it  would  take  from  Southampton  to  New  York 
in  the  two-seater  and  just  where  Ted  would  most 
likely  be. 


XXXIV 

A  LONG-DISTANCE  telephone  conversation  about  six 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  between  two  voices  usually 
so  even  and  composed  that  the  little  pulse  of 
excitement  beating  through  both  as  they  speak 
now  seems  perilous,  unnatural.  One  is  Mr. 
Severance's  thin  cool  speech  and  the  other  — 
most  curious,  that  —  seems  by  every  obsequious 
without  being  servile,  trained  and  impassive  turn 
and  phrase  to  be  that  of  that  treasure  among  house 
hold  treasures,  Elizabeth. 

"  My  instructions  were  that  I  was  to  call  you, 
sir,  whenever  I  was  next  given  an  evening  out." 

"  Yes,  Elizabeth.    Well?  " 

"  I  have  been  given  an  evening  out  tonight,  sir." 

"  Yes." 

"  Mrs.  Severance  has  told  me  that  I  am  on  no 
account  to  return  till  tomorrow  morning,  sir." 

"  Yes.     Go  on." 

"  There  are  the  materials  of  a  small  but  quite 
sufficient  meal  for  two  persons  in  the  refriger 
ator,  sir.  Mrs.  Severance  is  dining  out,  sir  —  she 
said." 

209 


2io  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Yes.     Any  further  information?  " 
"Mrs.  Severance  received  a  telephone  call  this 
morning,  sir,  before  she  went  out.     It  was  after  that 
that  she  told  me  I  was  to  have  the  evening." 

"You  did  not  happen  to  —  overhear  —  the  con 
versation,  did  you,  Elizabeth?  " 

"Oh  no,  sir.  Mrs.  Severance  spoke  very  low. 
The  only  words  that  I  could  catch  were  '  You '  at 
the  beginning  and  'Please  come'  near  the  end. 
The  words  'please  come'  were  rather  —  affec 
tionately  —  spoken  if  I  might  make  so  bold,  sir." 

:<  You  have  done  very  well,  Elizabeth." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  There  is  nothing  else?  " 

"No,  sir.  Should  you  wish  me  to  'phone  you 
again  before  tomorrow  morning,  sir?  " 

"  No,  Elizabeth." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     Good-by,  sir." 

"  Good-by,  Elizabeth." 


XXXV 

THE  rest  of  the  party  has  scattered  to  the  gardens 
or  the  porch  —  Oliver  has  wandered  into  the  library 
alone  to  wait  for  Peter  who  is  bringing  around  the 
two-seater  himself.  It  is  a  big  dim  room  with  books 
all  the  way  up  to  the  ceiling  and  a  comfortable 
leather  lounge  upon  which  he  sinks,  picks  up  a 
magazine  from  a  little  table  beside  it  and  starts 
ruffling  the  pages  idly.  The  chirrup  of  a  telephone 
bell  that  seems  to  come  out  of  the  wall  beside  him 
makes  him  jump. 

Then  he  remembers  —  that  must  be  Mr.  Piper's 
office  through  the  closed  door  there.  He  remem 
bers,  as  well,  Peter  joking  with  his  father  once  about 
his  never  getting  away  from  business  even  in  the 
country  and  pointing  at  the  half  dozen  telephones 
on  top  of  the  big  flat  desk  with  a  derisive  gesture 
while  detailing  to  Oliver  the  fondness  that  Sargent 
Piper  has  for  secretive  private  wires  and  the  absurd 
precautions  he  takes  to  keep  them  intensely  private. 
"  Why  he  went  and  had  all  his  special  numbers  here 
changed  once  just  because  I  found  out  one  of  them 
by  mistake  and  called  him  up  on  it  for  a  joke  — 


211 


212  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

the  cryptic  old  person!  "  Peter  had  said  with 
mocking  affection. 

The  telephone  chirrups  again  and  Oliver  gets  up 
and  goes  toward  the  door  of  the  office  with  a  vague 
idea  of  answering  it  since  there  seem  to  be  no  ser 
vants  about.  Then  he  remembers  something  else 
—  Peter's  telling  him  that  nothing  irritates  his 
father  more  than  having  anyone  else  answer  one 
of  his  private  wires  —  and  stops  with  his  hand  on 
the  door  that  has  swung  inward  an  inch  or  so  al 
ready  under  his  casual  pressure.  It  doesn't  matter 
anyhow  —  there  —  somebody  has  answered  it  — 
Mr.  Piper  probably,  as  there  is  another  door  to  the 
office  and  both  of  them  are  generally  kept  locked. 
Mr.  Piper  like  all  great  business  men  has  his  petty 
idiosyncrasies. 

Oliver  is  just  starting  to  turn  away  when  a 
whisper  of  sound  that  seems  oddly  like  "  Mrs. 
Severance  "  comes  to  his  ear  by  some  trick  of  acous 
tics  through  the  door.  He  hesitates  —  and  stays 
where  he  is,  wondering  all  the  time  why  he  is  doing 
anything  so  silly  and  unguest-like  —  and  also  what 
on  earth  he  could  say  if  Mr.  Piper  suddenly  flung 
open  the  door.  But  Ted  has  told  him  a  good  deal 
at  various  times  of  the  more  mysterious  aspects  of 
Mrs.  Severance,  and  her  name  jumping  out  at  him 
this  way  from  the  middle  of  Mr.  Piper's  private 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  213 

office  makes  it  rather  hard  to  act  like  a  copybook 
gentleman  —  especially  with  his  last  conversation 
with  Ted  still  plain  in  his  mind. 

The  voices  are  too  low  for  him  to  hear  anything 
distinctly  but  again  one  of  the  speakers  says  "  Mrs. 
Severance "  —  of  that  he  is  entirely  sure.  The 
receiver  clicks  back  and  Oliver  regains  the  lounge 
in  three  long  soft  strides,  thanking  his  carelessness 
that  he  is  still  wearing  rubber-soled  sport-shoes. 
He  is  very  much  absorbed  in  an  article  on  "  Fishing 
for  Tuna  "  when  Peter  comes  in. 

"  Well,  Oliver,  everything  ready  for  you.  Awfully 
sorry  you  have  to  rush  in  this  way  —  " 

"  Yes,  nuisance  all  right,  but  it's  my  one  best 
editor  and  that  may  mean  something  real  —  ter 
ribly  cheeky  thing  for  me  to  do,  Pete  —  bumming 
your  car  like  this  —  " 

"  Oh  rats,  you  know  you're  welcome  —  and  any 
how  I'm  lending  it  to  you  because  you'll  have  to 
bring  it  back,  and  that  means  you'll  come  back 
yourself  —  " 

"  Well  look,  Pete,  please  make  all  the  excuses 
you  can  for  me  to  your  mother.  And  I'll  run  back 
here  and  change  and  then  go  over  to  the  Rack- 
straws',  as  soon  as  I  can  —  Elinor  told  you  about 
Ted?  " 

"  Yes.    Sounds  sort  of  simple  to  me  asking  him 


2H  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

back  tonight  for  that  beach  picnic  tomorrow  when 
he  absolutely  had  to  leave  this  morning  —  but  I 
never  could  keep  all  Elinor's  social  arrangements 
straight.  Certainly  hope  he  can  get  off." 

"  So  do  I,"  says  Oliver  non-committally  and  then 
the  door  of  Mr.  Piper's  office  opens  and  Mr.  Piper 
comes  out  looking  as  well-brushed  and  courteous 
as  usual  but  with  a  face  that  seems  as  if  it  had  been 
touched  all  over  lightly  with  a  grey  painful  stain. 

"Hello,  Father?  Anything  up  from  Secret 
Headquarters?  " 

"  No,  boy,"  and  Oliver  is  surprised  at  the  effort 
with  which  Mr.  Piper  smiles.  "  Winthrop  called 
up  a  few  minutes  ago  about  those  Hungarian  bonds 
but  it  wasn't  anything  important  —  "  and  again 
Oliver  is  very  much  surprised  indeed,  though  he 
does  not  show  it. 

"  Is  your  mother  here,  Peter?  " 

"Upstairs  dressing,  I  think,  Father." 

Mr.  Piper  hesitates. 

"  Well,  you  might  tell  her  —  it's  nothing  of  con 
sequence  but  I  must  go  in  to  town  for  a  few  hours 
—  I  shall  have  them  give  me  a  sandwich  or  so  now 
and  catch  the  7.03,  I  think." 

"But  look,  Father,  Oliver  has  to  go  in  too, 
for  dinner  —  he's  taking  the  two-seater  now.  Why 
don't  you  let  him  take  you  too  —  that  would  save 
time  —  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  215 

"Perfectly  delighted  to,  Mr.  Piper,  of  course, 
and  —  " 

Mr.  Piper  looks  full  at  Oliver  —  a  little  strangely, 
Oliver  thinks. 

"  That  would  be  —  "  Mr.  Piper  begins,  and  then 
seems  to  change  his  mind  for  no  apparent  reason. 
"  No,  I  think  the  train  would  be  better,  I  do  not 
wish  to  get  in  too  early,  though  I  thank  you,  Oliver," 
he  says  with  an  old-fashioned  bob  of  his  head. 
"  And  now  I  must  really  —  a  little  food  per 
haps  "  —  and  he  escapes  before  either  Oliver  or 
Peter  has  time  to  argue  the  question.  Oliver  turns 
to  Peter. 

"Look  here,  Pete,  if  I'm  —  " 

"  You're  not.  Oh  I'd  think  it'd  be  a  lot  more 
sensible  of  Father  to  let  you  take  him  in,  but  you 
never  can  tell  about  Father.  Something  must  be 
up,  though,  in  spite  of  what  he  says  —  he's  sup 
posed  to  be  on  a  vacation  and  I  haven't  seen  him 
look  the  way  he  does  tonight  since  some  of  the 
tight  squeezes  in  the  war." 


XXXVI 

IT  all  started  by  having  too  much  Mrs.  Winters  at 
a  time,  Nancy  decided  later.  Mrs.  Winters  went 
down  with  comparative  painlessness  in  homeo 
pathic  doses  but  Mrs.  Winters  day  in  and  day  out 
was  too  much  like  being  forcibly  fed  with  thick 
raspberry  syrup.  And  then  there  had  been  walking 
up  the  Avenue  from  the  Library  alone  the  evening 
before  —  and  remembering  walks  with  Oliver  — 
and  coming  across  that  copy  of  the  "  Shropshire 
Lad  "  in  Mrs.  Winters'  bookcase  and  thinking  just 
how  Oliver's  voice  had  sounded  when  he  read  it 
aloud  to  her — a  process  of  some  difficulty,  she 
recalled,  because  he  had  tried  to  read  with  an  arm 
around  her.  And  then  all  the  next  day  as  she 
tried  to  work  nothing  but  Oliver,  Oliver,  running 
through  her  mind  softshoed  like  a  light  and  tireless 
runner,  crumbling  all  proper  dignity  and  good  reso 
lutions  away  from  her,  little  hard  pebble  by  little 
hard  pebble,  till  she  had  finally  given  up  altogether, 
called  up  Vanamee  and  Company  on  the  telephone 
and  asked,  with  her  heart  in/  her  mouth,  if  Mr. 
Oliver  Crowe  were  there. 

216 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  217 

The  reply  that  came  seemed  unreal  somehow  — 
she  had  been  so  sure  he  would  be  and  every  nerve 
in  her  body  had  been  so  strung  to  wonder  at  what 
she  was  going  to  say  or  do  when  he  finally  answered, 
that  the  news  that  he  had  left  three  weeks  before 
brought  her  down  to  earth  as  suddenly  as  if  she 
had  been  tripped.  All  she  could  think  of  was  that 
it  must  be  because  of  her  that  Oliver  had  left  the 
company  —  and  illogically  picture  a  starving  Oliver 
painfully  wandering  the  streets  of  New  York  and 
gazing  at  the  food  displayed  in  restaurant  windows 
with  lost  and  hopeless  eyes. 

Then  she  shook  herself  —  what  nonsense  —  he 
must  be  at  Melgrove.  She  couldn't  call  him  up  at 
Melgrove,  though,  he  mightn't  be  there  when  she 
'phoned  and  then  his  family  would  answer  and  what 
his  family  must  think  of  her  now,  when  they'd  been 
so  perfectly  lovely  when  she  and  Oliver  were  first 
engaged  —  she  shivered  a  little  —  no,  that  wouldn't 
do.  And  letters  never  really  said  things  —  it 
mustn't  be  letters  —  besides,  she  thought,  humbly, 
it  would  be  so  awful  to  have  Oliver  send  letters 
back  unopened.  Two  weeks  of  pure  Mrs.  Winters 
had  chastened  Nancy  to  an  unusual  degree. 

For  all  that  though,  it  was  not  until  Mrs.  Winters 
had  left  her  alone  for  the  evening  after  offering 
her  an  invitation  to  attend  a  little  discussion  group 


218  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

that  met  Wednesday  evenings  and  read  literary 
papers  at  each  other,  an  invitation  which  Nancy 
somewhat  stubbornly  declined,  that  she  finally  made 
up  her  mind.  Then  she  sighed  and  went  to  the 
telephone  again. 

"  Mr.  Oliver  Crowe?  He  is  away  on  a  visit  just 
at  present  but  we  expect  him  back  tomorrow  after 
noon."  Margaret  is  pretending  for  her  own  satis 
faction  over  the  wire  that  the  Crowes  have  a  maid. 
"  Who  is  calling,  please?  » 

Rather  shakily,  "  A  f-friend." 

Briskly.  "  I  understand.  Well,  he  will  be  back 
tomorrow.  Is  that  all  that  you  wished  to  inquire? 
No  message?  " 

"  Good-by  then,"  and  again  Nancy  thinks  that 
things  simply  will  not  be  dramatic  no  matter  how 
hard  she  tries. 

She  decides  to  take  a  small  walk  howevdr  — 
small  because  she  simply  must  get  to  bed  before 
Mrs.  Winters  comes  back  and  starts  talking  at  her 
improvingly.  The  walk  seems  to  take  her  directly 
to  the  nearest  Subway  —  and  so  to  the  Pennsyl 
vania  Station,  where,  after  she  has  acquired  a  time 
table  of  trains  to  Melgrove,  she  seems  to  be  a  good 
deal  happier  than  she  has  been  for  some  time.  At 
least  as  she  is  going  up  the  cake-colored  stairs  to 
the  Arcade  again  she  cannot  help  taking  the  last 
one  with  an  irrepressible  skip. 


XXXVII 

OLIVER  had  quite  a  little  time  to  think  things  over 
as  the  two-seater  purred  along  smooth  roads  toward 
New  York.  The  longer  he  thought  them  over, 
the  less  amiable  some  few  of  the  things  appeared. 
He  formed  and  rejected  a  dozen  more  or  less  in 
credible  hypotheses  as  to  what  possible  connection 
there  could  be  between  Mrs.  Severance  and  Sargent 
Piper  —  none  of  them  seemed  to  fit  entirely  and  yet 
there  must  be  something  perfectly  simple,  perfectly 
easy  to  explain  —  only  what  on  earth  could  it  be? 
He  went  looking  through  his  mind  for  any  scraps 
that  might  possibly  piece  together  —  of  course  he 
hadn't  known  Peter  since  College  without  finding 
out  that  in  spite  of  their  extreme  politeness  toward 
each  other,  Peter's  mother  and  father  really  didn't 
get  on.  Club-stories  came  to  him  that  he  had  tried 
to  get  away  from  —  the  kind  of  stories  that  were 
told  about  any  prominent  man,  he  supposed  —  a 
little  leering  paragraph  in  "  Town  Gossip  "  —  a 
dozen  words  dropped  with  the  easy  assuredness  of 
tone  that  meant  the  speakers  were  alluding  to 
something  that  everyone  knew  by  people  who  hadn't 

219 


220  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

realized  that  he  was  Peter's  friend.  A  caustically 
frank  discussion  of  Mrs.  Severance  with  Ted  in 
one  of  Ted's  bitter  moods  —  a  discussion  that  had 
given  Oliver  a  bad  half-hour  later  with  Louise. 

But  things  like  that  didn't  happen  —  people 
whose  houses  you  stayed  at  —  people  your  sister 
brought  home  over  the  week-end  —  the  fathers  of 
your  own  friends.  And  then  Oliver  winced  as  he 
remembered  the  afternoon  when  all  the  New  Haven 
evening  papers  had  screamed  with  headlines  over 
the  Witterly  divorce  suit  —  and  Bob  Witterly's 
leaving  College  because  he  couldn't  stand  it  —  that 
had  been  people  you  knew  all  right  —  and  every 
one  had  always  had  such  a  good  time  at  the 
Witterlys'  too. 

It  was  all  perfectly  incredible  of  course  —  but 
he  would  have  to  find  Ted  just  as  soon  as  possible, 
no  matter  where  he  had  to  go  to  find  him  —  and  as 
the  little  reel  of  the  speedometer  began  to  hitch 
toward  the  left  and  into  higher  figures,  Oliver 
felt  very  relieved  indeed  that  he  had  the  two-seater 
and  that  Mr.  Piper  wasn't  coming  into  town  till 
the  7.03. 

He  got  into  New  York  to  find  he  hadn't  made 
as  good  time  as  he'd  thought  —  a  couple  of  traffic 
blocks  had  kept  him  back  for  valuable  minutes  — 
though  of  course  the  minutes  couldn't  be  valuable 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  221 

exactly  when  it  was  all  bosh  about  his  having  to 
get  in  so  quickly  after  all.  He  went  first  to  2  52 A 
Madison  Avenue,  hoping  most  heartily  that  Ted 
would  be  there  on  the  fifth  floor  with  his  eyeshade 
over  his  eyes  and  large  law-books  crowding  his 
desk,  but  the  door  was  locked  and  knockings 
brought  no  response  except  a  peevish  voice  from 
the  other  side  of  the  narrow  hall  requesting  any 
gentleman  that  was  a  gentleman  to  shut  up  for 
Gawd's  sake.  The  Yale  Club  next  —  there  was 
just  a  chance  that  Ted  might  be  there  — 

Oliver  went  through  the  Yale  Club  a  good  deal 
more  thoroughly  than  most  pages,  from  the  lobby 
to  the  upstairs  dining-room.  He  even  invaded  the 
library  to  the  suspicious  annoyance  of  some  old 
uncle  who  was  pretending  to  read  a  book  held 
upside  down  in  his  lap  in  order  to  camouflage  his 
pre-prandial  nap.  No  Ted  —  though  half-a-dozen 
acquaintances  who  insisted  on  saying  hello  and 
taking  up  time.  Back  to  the  street  and  a  slight 
dispute  with  a  policeman  as  regarded  the  place 
where  Oliver  had  parked  his  car.  He  looked  at  his 
watch  just  before  poking  the  self-starter  —  Mr. 
Piper's  train  must  be  halfway  to  New  York  by  now. 
He  set  his  lips  and  turned  down  44th  Street  toward 
the  Avenue. 

Fourth  floor  Ted  had  said.    The  elevator  went 


222  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

much  too  quickly  for  Oliver  —  he  was  standing  in 
front  of  a  most  non-committal  door-bell  before  he 
had  arranged  the  racing  tumult  of  thought  in  his 
mind  enough  to  be  in  any  measure  sure  of  just  what 
the  devil  he  was  going  to  say. 

Moreover  he  was  oppressed  by  a  familiar  and 
stomachless  sensation  —  the  sensation  he  always 
had  when  he  tried  to  high-dive  and  stood  looking 
gingerly  down  from  a  shaky  platform  at  water  that 
seemed  a  thousand  miles  away  and  as  flat  and  hard 
as  a  blue  steel  plate.  There  wasn't  any  guide  in 
any  Manual  of  Etiquette  he  had  ever  heard  of  on 
What  to  Say  When  Interrupting  a  Tete-a-Tete  be 
tween  Your  Best  Friend  and  a  Dangerous  And 
Beautiful  Woman.  He  wondered  idly  if  Ted  would 
ever  speak  to  him  again  —  Mrs.  Severance  certainly 
wouldn't  —  and  he  rather  imagined  that  even  if  Ted 
and  Elinor  did  get  married  he  would  hardly  be  the 
welcome  guest  he  had  always  expected  to  be  there. 

Well,  that  was  what  you  get  for  trying  to  pull  a 
Jonathan  when  the  Saul  in  question  was  behaving 
a  good  deal  more  like  David  in  the  affair  with 
Uriah  the  Hittite's  spouse  —  and  it  wasn't  safe  and 
Biblical  and  all  done  with  a  couple  of  thousand 
years  ago  but  abashingly  real  and  now  happening 
directly  under  your  own  astonished  eyes.  He  licked 
his  lips  a  little  nervously  — they  seemed  to  be 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  223 

rather  dry  No  use  standing  outside  the  door  like 
a  wooden  statue  of  Unwelcome  Propriety  anyhow 
—  the  thing  had  to  be  done,  that  was  all  —  and  he 
pushed  the  bell-button  with  all  the  decision  he  could 
force  into  his  finger. 

The  fact  that  it  was  not  answered  at  once  helped 
him  a  good  deal  by  giving  him  a  certain  strength 
of  annoyance.  He  pushed  again. 

It  was  Mrs.  Severance  who  answered  it  finally  — 
and  the  moment  he  saw  her  face  he  knew  with  an 
immense  invisible  shock  of  relief  how  right  he  had 
been,  for  it  was  composed  as  an  idol's  but  under  the 
composure  there  was  emotion,  and,  the  moment  she 
saw  him,  anger,  as  strong  and  steady  and  impassive 
as  the  color  of  a  metal  that  is  only  white  because 
it  has  been  possessed  to  extremity  already  with  all 
the  burning  heat  that  its  substance  can  bear.  She 
was  dressed  in  some  stuff  that  moved  with  her  and 
was  part  of  her  as  wholly  as  if  it  and  her  body  had 
been  made  together  out  of  light  and  gilded  cloud  — 
he  had  somehow  never  imagined  that  she  could  be 
as  —  lustrous  —  as  that  —  it  gave  him  the  sen 
sation  that  he  had  only  seen  her  before  when  she 
was  unlighted  like  an  empty  lantern,  and  that  now 
there  was  such  fire  of  light  in  her  that  the  very 
glass  that  contained  it  seemed  to  be  burning  of  it 
self.  And  then  he  realized  that  she  had  given  him 


224  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

good-evening  with  an  exquisite  politeness,  shaken 
hands  and  now  was  obviously  waiting,  with  a  little 
tired  look  of  surprise  around  her  mouth,  to  find  out 
exactly  why  he  was  there  at  all. 

He  gathered  his  wits  —  it  wasn't  fair,  somehow, 
for  her  to  be  wearing  that  air  of  delicate  astonish 
ment  at  an  unexpected  call  at  dinner-time  when  he 
hadn't  been  invited  —  it  forced  him  into  being  so 
casually  polite. 

"  Sorry  to  break  in  on  you  like  this,  Mrs.  Sever 
ance,"  he  said  with  a  ghastly  feeling  that  after  all 
he  might  be  entirely  wrong,  and  another  that  it  was 
queer  to  have  to  be  so  formal,  in  the  afternoon  tea 
sense,  with  his  words  when  his  whole  mind  was 
boiling  with  pictures  of  everything  from  Ted  as  a 
modern  Tannhauser  in  a  New  York  Venusberg 
to  triangular  murder.  "  I  hope  I'm  not  —  dis 
turbing  you?  " 

"  Oh  no.  No,"  and  he  suddenly  felt  a  most  com 
plete  if  unwilling  admiration  for  the  utter  finish  with 
which  she  was  playing  her  side  of  the  act. 

"  Only  you  see,"  and  this  was  Oliver  doing  his 
best  at  the  ingenuous  boy,  "  Ted  Billett,  you  know 
—  he  said  he  might  be  having  dinner  with  you  this 
evening  —  and  I've  got  a  very  important  letter  for 
him  —  awful  nuisance  —  don't  see  why  it  couldn't 
have  gone  in  the  mail  by  itself  —  but  the  man  was 
absolutely  insistent  on  my  delivering  it  by  hand." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  225 

"  A  letter?  Oh  yes.  And  they  want  an  answer 
right  away? "  Again  Oliver  realized  grudgingly 
that  whatever  Mrs.  Severance  might  be  she  was 
certainly  not  obvious.  For  "  I'm  so  glad  you  came 
then,"  she  was  saying  with  what  seemed  to  be 
perfect  sincerity.  "  Won't  you  come  in?  " 

That  little  pucker  that  came  and  went  in  the 
white  brow  meant  that  she  was  sure  that  she  could 
manage  him,  sure  she  could  carry  it  off,  Oliver  im 
agined —  and  he  was  frank  enough  with  himself 
to  admit  that  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that  she  couldn't. 

"  Oh  Ted  —  "  he  heard  her  say,  very  coolly  but 
also  with  considerable  distinctness,  as  if  her  voice 
had  to  carry,  "  there's  a  friend  of  yours  here  with  a 
letter  for  you  —  " 

And  then  she  had  brought  him  inside  and  was 
apologizing  for  having  the  front  room  so  badly 
lighted  but  one  had  to  economize  on  light-bills, 
didn't  one,  even  for  a  small  apartment,  and  besides 
didn't  it  give  one  a  little  more  the  real  feeling  of 
evening?  And  Oliver  was  considering  why,  when 
if  as  he  pressed  the  bell,  he  had  felt  so  much  like 
a  modern  St.  George  and  wholly  as  if  he  were  doing 
something  rather  fine  and  perilous,  he  should  feel 
quite  so  much  like  a  gauche  seventeen-year-old  now. 
He  thought  that  he  would  not  enjoy  playing  chess 
with  Mrs.  Severance.  She  was  one  of  those  people 


226  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

who  smiled  inoffensively  at  the  end  of  a  game  and 
then  said  they  thought  it  would  really  be  a  little 
evener  if  they  gave  you  both  knights. 

Ted  reassured  him  though.  Ted,  stumbling  out 
of  the  dining-room,  with  a  mixture  of  would-be 
unconcern,  compound  embarrassment  and  complete 
though  suppressed  fury  at  Oliver  on  his  face. 
It  was  hardly  either  just  or  moral,  Oliver  reflected, 
that  Mrs.  Severance  should  be  the  only  one  of  them 
to  seem  completely  at  her  ease. 

"  Hello,  Ollie,"  in  the  tone  of  "  And  if  you'd  only 
get  the  hell  out  as  quickly  as  possible."  "  Mrs. 
Severance — "  a  stumble  over  that.  "You've  got 
a  letter  for  me?  " 

"  Yes.  It's  important,"  said  Oliver  as  firmly  as 
he  could.  He  gave  it,  and,  as  Ted  sat  down  near 
a  lamp  to  read  it,  Oliver  saw  by  one  sudden  momen 
tary  flash  that  passed  over  Mrs.  Severance's  face 
that  she  had  seen  the  address  and  known  instantly 
that  the  handwriting  was  not  that  of  a  man.  And 
then  Oliver  began  to  think  that  he  might  have  been 
right  when  he  had  thought  of  the  present  expedition 
as  something  rather  perilous  —  he  found  that  he  had 
moved  three  steps  away  from  Mrs.  Severance  with 
out  his  knowing  it,  very  much  as  he  might  have  from 
an  unfamiliar  piece  of  furniture  near  which  he  was 
standing  and  which  had  instantaneously  developed 
all  the  electric  properties  of  a  coil  of  live  wire. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  227 

Then  he  looked  at  Ted's  face  —  and  what  he 
saw  there  made  him  want  to  kick  himself  for  looking 
—  because  it  is  never  proper  for  even  the  friend 
liest  spectator  to  see  a  man's  private  soul  stripped 
naked  as  a  grass-stalk  before  his  own  eyes.  It 
was  horribly  like  watching  Ted  lose  balance  on  the 
edge  of  a  cliff  that  he  had  been  walking  uncon 
cernedly  'and  start  to  fall  without  crying  out  or 
any  romantic  gestures,  with  only  that  look  of  utter 
surprise  struck  into  his  face  and  the  way  his  hands 
clutched  as  if  they  would  tear  some  solid  hold  out 
of  the  air.  Oliver  kept  his  eyes  on  him  in  a  frosty 
suspense  while  he  read  the  letter  all  through  three 
times  and  then  folded  it  and  put  it  carefully  aw'ay 
in  his  breast  pocket  —  and  then  when  he  looked 
at  Mrs.  Severance  Oliver  could  have  shouted  aloud 
with  immense  improper  joy,  for  he  knew  by  the 
way  Ted's  hands  moved  that  they  were  going  back 
in  the  car  together. 

Ted  was  on  his  feet  and  his  voice  was  as  grave 
as  if  he  were  apologizing  for  having  insulted  Mrs. 
Severance  in  public,  but  under  the  meaninglessness 
of  his  actual  words  it  was  wholly  firm  and  con 
trolled. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry  —  I've  got  to  go  right  away. 
You'll  think  me  immensely  rude  but  it's  something 
that's  practically  life-'and-death." 


228  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Really?  "  said  Mrs.  Severance  and  Oliver  could 
have  clapped  his  hands  at  her  accent.  Now  that  the 
battle  had  ended  bloodlessly,  he  supposed  he  might 
be  permitted  to  applaud,  internally  at  least.  And 
"  I'm  sorry  —  but  this  is  over,"  said  every  note  in 
Ted's  voice  and  "Lost  have  I?  Well  then  —  " 
every  note  in  hers. 

It  occurred  to  Oliver  that  things  were  badly  ar 
ranged  —  all  this  —  and  he  was  the  only  audience. 
Life  seemed  sudden  lavish  in  giving  him  benefit 
performances  of  other  people's  love-affairs  —  he 
supposed  it  Was  all  part  of  the  old  and  deathless 
jest. 

And  then,  like  a  prickling  of  cold,  there  passed 
over  him  once  more  that  little  sense  of  danger. 
Mrs.  Severance  and  Ted  were  both  standing  looking 
at  each  other  and  neither  was  saying  anything  — 
and  Ted  looked  by  his  face  as  if  he  were  walking 
in  his  sleep. 

"The  Car's  down  below,  old  boy,"  said  Oliver 
helpfully,  and  then,  a  little  louder  "  Peter's  car, 
you  know,"  and  whatever  cobwebs  had  been  holding 
Ted  for  the  last  instant  broke  apart.  He  went  over 
to  Mrs.  Severance.  "  Good-by." 

"  Good-by,"  and  he  started  making  apologies 
again  while  she  merely  looked  and  Oliver  was  sud 
denly  fretting  like  a  weary  hostess  whose  callers  have 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S   PRIDE  229 

stayed  hours  too  long,  to  have  him  down  in  the  car 
and  the  car  pointed  again  with  its  nose  toward 
Southampton. 

And  then  he  heard,  through  Ted's  last  apologia, 
the  whir  of  a  mounting  elevator. 

The  elevator  couldn't  stop  at  the  fourth  floor  — 
it  couldn't.  But  it  did,  and  there  was  the  noise  of 
the  gate  slung  back  and  "  What's  that?  "  said  Mrs. 
Severance  sharply,  her  politeness  broken  to  bits  for 
the  first  time. 

They  were  all  standing  near  the  door,  and,  with 
a  complete  disbelief  in  all  that  he  was  hearing  and 
seeing,  Oliver  heard  Mrs.  Severance's  voice  in  his 
ear,  "  The  kitchen  —  fire-escape  —  "  saw  her  push 
Ted  toward  him  as  if  she  were  shifting  a  piece  of 
cumbrous  furniture,  and  obeyed  her  orders  im 
plicitly  because  he  was  too  surprised  to  think  of 
doing  anything  else. 

He  hurried  himself  and  the  still  half-somnam 
bulistic  Ted  through  the  dining-room  curtains,  just 
in  time  to  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Severance 
softly  pressing  with  all  her  weight  and  strength 
against  her  side  of  the  door  of  the  apartment  as  a 
man's  quick  short  footsteps  crossed  the  hall  in  two 
strides,  and  after  a  second's  pause,  a  key  clicked 
into  the  lock. 


XXXVIII 

MRS.  SEVERANCE,  her  whole  weight  against  the  door, 
felt  it  push  at  her  fiercely  without  opening,  and, 
even  in  the  midst  of  her  turmoil,  smiled.  Mr. 
Severance  had  never  been  exactly  what  one  would 
call  an  athlete  — 

She  slackened  her  pressure,  little  by  anxious  little. 
Her  hand  crept  down  to  the  knob,  then  she  jerked 
it  sharply  and  stood  back  and  Mr.  Piper  came 
stumbling  into  the  room,  a  little  too  fast  for  dignity. 

He  had  to  catch  to  her  to  save  himself  from  falling 
but  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  his  balance  he  jerked 
his  hands  away  from  her  as  if  they  had  taken  hold 
of  something  that  hurt  him  and  when  he  stood  up 
she  saw  that  his  face  was  grey  all  over  and  that  his 
breath  came  in  little  hard  sniffs  through  his  nose. 

"  Sorry,  Sargent,"  she  said  easily.  "  I  heard 
your  key  but  that  silly  old  door  is  sticking  again. 
You  didn't  hurt  yourself,  did  you?  " 

For  an  instant  she  thought  that  everything  was 
going  to  be  perfectly  simple  —  his  face  had  changed 
so,  with  an  intensity  of  relief  almost  childish,  at 
the  sound  of  her  accustomed  voice.  Then  the  grey- 
ness  came  back. 

"  Do  you  mind  —  introducing  me  —  Rose  —  to 
the  gentleman  —  you  are  dining  with  tonight?  "  he 

230 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  231 

said  with  a  difficulty  of  speech  as  if  actual  words 
were  not  things  he  was  accustomed  to  using.  "  I 
merely  —  called  —  to  be  quite  sure." 

She  managed  to  look  as  puzzled  as  possible. 

"The  gentleman?" 

"  Oh  yes,  the  gentleman."  He  seemed  neither 
to  be  particularly  disgusted  nor  murderously  angry 
—  only  so  utterly  tired  in  body  and  spirit  that  she 
thought  oddly  that  it  seemed  almost  as  if  any  sudden 
gesture  or  movement  might  crumble  him  into  pieces 
of  fine  grey  paper  at  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  there  isn't  any  use  hi  pretending,  Rose  — 
any  more.  I  have  my  information." 

"  Yes?     From  whom?  " 

"What  on  earth  does  it  matter?  Elizabeth  — 
since  you  choose  to  know." 

"Elizabeth,"  said  Mrs.  Severance  softly.  She 
could  not  imagine  how  time,  even  when  successfully 
played  for  and  gained,  could  help  the  situation  very 
much  —  but  that  was  the  only  thing  shei  could 
think  of  doing,  and  she  did  it,  therefore,  with  every 
trick  of  deliberation  she  knew,  as  if  any  instant 
saved  before  he  went  into  the  dining-room  might 
bring  salvation. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  was  always  a  little  doubtful 
about  Elizabeth.  She  was  a  little  too  beautifully 
incurious  about  everything  to  be  quite  real  —  and 
a  little  too  well  satisfied  with  her  place,  even  on 


232  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

what  we  paid  her.  But  of  course  if  she  has  been 
supplementing  her  salary  with  private-detective 
work  for  you  —  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  suppose  you  were  foolish  enough  to  give  her 
one  of  your  private  numbers/'  she  said  a  trifle 
acidly.  "  Which  will  mean  that  you  will  be  paying 
her  a  modest  blackmail  all  the  rest  of  your  life,  and 
you'll  probably  have  to  provide  for  her  in  your  will. 
Oh,  I  know  Elizabeth !  She'll  be  perfectly  secret  — 
if  she's  paid  for  it  —  she'll  never  make  you  willing 
to  risk  the  scandal  by  asking  for  more  than  just 
enough.  But  if  this  is  the  way  you  carry  on  all 
your  confidential  investigations,  Sargent  —  well,  it's 
fortunate  you  have  large  means  —  " 

"  She  doesn't  know  who  I  am." 

"  Oh  Sargent,  S'argent!  When  all  she  has  to  do 
is  to  subscribe  to  '  Town  and  Country.'  Or  call 
up  the  number  you  gave  her,  some  time,  and  ask 
where  it  is." 

"  There  are  the  strictest  orders  about  nobody 
but  myself  ever  answering  the  telephones  in  my 
private  office." 

"  And  servants  are  always  perfectly  obedient  — 
and  there  are  no  stupid  ones  —  and  'accidents  never 
happen.  Sargent,  really  —  " 

"That  doesn't  matter.  I  didn't  come  here  to 
talk  about  Elizabeth." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  233 

"  Really?  I  should  think  you  might  have.  I 
could  have  given  you  all  the  information  you  re 
quired  a  good  de'al  less  expensively  —  and  now,  I 
suppose,  I'll  have  to  think  up  some  way  of  getting 
rid  of  Elizabeth  as  well.  I  can't  pay  her  off  with 
one  of  my  new  dresses  this  time  —  " 

"  Who  is  he?  " 

"  Suppose  we  start  talking  about  it  from  the  be 
ginning,  Sargent  —  ?  " 

"  Where  is  he?  " 

"  In  the  dining-room,  I  imagine.  It  wouldn't  be 
very  well  bred  of  anyone,  would  it,  to  come  out  and 
be  introduced  in  the  middle  of  this  very  loud,  very 
vulgar  quarrel  that  you  are  making  with  me  —  " 

"  I'm  going  to  see." 

"No,  Sargent." 

"Let  me  pass,  Rose!  " 

"  I  will  not.  Sargent,  I  will  not  let  you  make  an 
absolute  fool  of  yourself  before  my  friends  before 
you  give  me  a  chance  to  explain  —  " 

"  I  will,  I  tell  you!     I  will!     Let  me  go!  " 

They  were  struggling  undignifiedly  in  the  center 
of  the  room,  her  firm  strong  hands  tight  over  his 
wrists  as  he  pawed  at  her,  trying  to  wrench  himself 
aw*ay.  Mr.  Piper  was  a  gentleman  no  longer  — 
nor  a  business  man  —  nor  a  figure  of  nation-wide 
importance  —  he  was  only  a  small  furious  figure 
with  a  face  as  grey  and  distorted  as  a  fighting  ape's 


234  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

who  was  clutching  at  the  woman  in  front  of  him 
as  if  he  would  like  to  tear  her  with  his  hands.  A  red 
swimming  had  fallen  over  his  eyes  —  all  he  knew 
was  that  the  woman-person  in  front  of  him  had 
fooled  him  more  bitterly  and  commonly  than  anyone 
had  been  fooled  since  Adam  —  and  that  if  he  could 
not  get  loose  in  some  way  or  other  from  the  hate 
ful  strength  that  was  holding  him,  he  would  burst 
into  the  disgusting  tears  of  a  vicious  small  boy  who 
is  being  firmly  held  down  and  spanked  by  an  older 
girl.  Grammar,  manners  and  sense  had  gone  from 
him  as  completely  as  if  he  had  never  possessed  them. 

"Lemme  go!  oh  damn  you,  damn  you  —  you 
woman  —  you  devil  —  lemme  go!" 

"  Be  quiet,  Sargent!  Oh  shut  up,  you  fool,  shut 
up!  " 

A  noise  came  from  the  kitchen  — a  noise  like 
the  sound  of  a  man  falling  over  boxes.  Mr.  Piper 
struggled  furiously  — -  Paris  was  crawling  out  of  the 
window  —  Paris,  the  sleek,  sly  chamberer,  the  gay 
hateful  cuckoo  of  his  private  nest  was  getting  away! 
Mrs.  Severance  turned  her  head  toward  the  noise 
a  second.  Mr.  Piper  fought  like  a  crippled  wrestler. 

"  Grr-ah!     Ah,  would  you,  would  you?  " 

He  had  wrenched  one  hand  free  for  an  instant  — 
it  went  to  his  pocket  and  came  out  of  it  with  some 
thing  that  shone  and  was  hard  like  a  new  metal  toy. 

"Now  will  you  lemme  go?  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  235 

But  Mrs.  Severance  tried  to  grab  for  the  hand 
with  the  revolver  in  it  instead,  and  succeeded  only 
in  striking  the  barrel  a  little  aside.  There  was  a 
noise  that  sounded  like  a  cannon-cracker  bursting 
in  Mr.  Piper's  face  —  it  was  so  near  —  and  then 
he  was  standing  up,  shaking  all  over,  but  free  and 
a  man  re'ady  to  explain  a  number  of  very  painful 
things  to  Paris  as  soon  as  he  caught  him.  He  took 
one  step  toward  the  dining-room,  sheer  rage  tugging 
at  his  body  as  high  wind  tugs  at  a  bough.  Now 
that  woman  was  out  of  the  way  — 

And  then  he  saw  that  she  was  out  of  the  way 
indeed.  She  could  not  have  fallen  without  his 
hearing  her  fall  —  how  could  she?  —  but  she  was 
lying  on  the  floor  in  a  crumple  of  clothes  and  one 
of  her  arms  was  thrown  queerly  out  from  her  side 
as  if  it  did  not  belong  to  her  body  any  longer.  He 
stood  looking  at  her  for  what  seemed  one  long  end 
less  wave  of  uncounted  time  and  that  firecracker 
noise  he  had  heard  kept  echoing  and  echoing  through 
his  head  like  the  sound  of  loud  steps  along  a  long 
and  empty  corridor.  Then  he  suddenly  dropped 
the  pistol  and  knelt  clumsily  beside  her. 

"Rose!  Rose!  "  he  started  calling  huskily,  his 
hands  feeling  with  frantic  awkwardness  for  her 
pulse  'and  her  heart,  as  Oliver  Crowe  ran  into  the 
room  through  the  curtains. 


XXXIX 

OLIVER  thought  that  he  had  never  been  quite  so 
sure  of  anything  as  he  was  that  he  must  be  insane. 
He  was  insane.  Very  shortly  some  heavy  person 
in  uniform  would  walk  into  the  tidy  kitchen  where 
he  and  Ted  were  crouching  like  moving-picture 
husbands  and  remark  with  a  kind  smile  that  the 
Ahkoond  of  Whilom  was  giving  a  tea-party  in  the 
Mountains  of  the  Moon  that  afternoon  and  that 
unless  Oliver  (or,  as  he  was  probable  better 
known)  St.  Oliver,  came  back  at  once  in  the  nice 
private  car  with  the  wire  netting  over  its  windows, 
everybody  from  God  the  Father  Almighty  to  Carrie 
Chapman  Catt  would  be  highly  displeased.  For  a 
moment  Oliver  thought  of  lunatic  asylums  almost 
lovingly  —  they  had  such  fine  high  walls  and  smooth 
green  lawns  and  you  were  so  perfectly  safe  there 
from  anything  ever  happening  that  was  real. 
Then  he  jumped  —  that  must  be  Mrs.  Severance 
opening  the  door. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do?  "  he  said  to  Ted  in 
a  fierce  whisper. 

Ted  looked  at  him  stupidly. 
236 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  237 

"  Do?  When  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  on  my 
feet  or  my  head?  "  he  said.  His  drugged  passive- 
ness  showed  Oliver  with  desolating  clarity  that  any 
thing  that  could  be  done  would  have  to  be  done  by 
himself.  He  crept  over  toward  the  window  with  a 
wild  wish  that  black  magic  were  included  in  a  Yale 
curriculum  —  the  only  really  sensible  thing  he 
could  think  of  doing  would  be  for  both  of  them  to 
vanish  through  the  wall. 

"  Look !     Fire-escape !  " 

"  What?  " 

"  Fire-escape!  " 

"  All  right.    You  take  it." 

Oliver  had  been  sliding  the  window  up  all  the 
while,  cursing  softly  and  horribly  at  each  damna 
tory  creak.  Yes  —  there  it  was  —  and  people 
thought  fire-escapes  ugly.  Personally,  Oliver  had 
seldom  seen  anything  in  his  life  which  combined 
concrete  utility  with  abstract  beauty  so  ideally  as 
that  little  flight  of  iron  steps  leading  down  the  entry 
outside  the  window  into  blackness. 

"  You  first,  Ted." 

"Can't."  The  word  seemed  to  come  despair 
ingly  out  of  the  bottom  of  his  stomach. 

"  Came  here.  Own  accord.  Got  to  see  it  through. 
Take  my  medicine." 

"  You  fool,  she  doesn't  want  you  here!  Think  of 
Elinor!  " 


238  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

For  a  moment  Oliver  thought  Ted  was  going  to 
blaze  into  more  blind  rage.  Then  he  checked  him 
self. 

"  I  am.     But  listen  to  that." 

The  voices  that  came  to  them  from  the  living- 
room  were  certainly  both  high  and  excited  —  and 
the  second  that  Oliver  heard  one  of  them  he  knew 
that  all  his  most  preposterous  suppositions  on  the 
drive  down  from  Southampton  had  come  preposter 
ously  and  rather  ghastly  true. 

"  Well,  listen  to  it!  Do  you  know  who  the  man 
is  now?  And  will  you  get  out  on  the  fire-escape, 
you  fool?  " 

Ted  listened  intently  for  the  space  of  a  dozen 
seconds.  Then  "  Oh  my  God!  "  he  said  and  his 
head  went  into  his  hands.  Oliver  crept  over  to  him. 

"Ted,  listen  —  oh  listen,  damn  you!  What's 
the  use  of  acting  the  chivalrous  fool,  now?  Don't 
you  see?  Don't  you  understand?  Don't  you  get  it 
that  if  you  leave  she  can  explain  it  some  way  or 
other  —  that  all  you're  doing  by  staying  is  ruining 
yourself  and  Elinor  for  a  point  of  honor  that  hasn't 
any  honor  to  it?  " 

"  Oh  sure.  Sure.  But  listen  to  him  —  why 
great  God,  Ollie,  if  he  has  a  gun  he  might  kill  her 
—  probably  will  —  Don't  you  see  it's  just  because 
I  hate  the  whole  business  now  —  and  her  —  and 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  239 

myself  —  th'at  I've  got  to  stick  it  out?  You  go, 
Ollie,  it's  none  of  your  business  — " 

"  You  go.  You  blessed  idiot,  there's  no  use  of 
both  of  us  smashing.  If  anybody's  got  to  stay  —  I 
can  bluff  it  out  a  good  deal  better  than  you  can  — 
trust  me  —  " 

"  Oh  rats.  Not  that  it  isn't  very  decent  of  you, 
Ollie,  it  is  —  and  you'd  do  it  —  but  I  wouldn't  even 
be  a  person  to  let  you  —  " 

They  were  both  on  their  feet,  talking  in  jerks,  ears 
strained  for  every  sound  from  that  other  room. 

"  It's  perfectly  simple  —  nobody's  going  to  pull 
any  gunplay  —  good  Lord,  imagine  poor  old  Mr. 
Piper  — "  said  Oliver  uncertainly,  and  then  as 
noises  came  to  them  that  meant  more  than  just 
talking,  "  Get  down  that  fire-escape!  " 

"  I  can't.  Let  go  of  me,  Ollie.  I  mustn't 
Listen  —  something's  up  —  something  bad!  Get 
out  of  the  way  there,  Ollie,  I've  got  to  go  in!  It 
isn't  your  funeral!  " 

"Well,  it  isn't  going  to  be  yours!  "  said  Oliver 
through  shut  teeth  —  Ted's  last  remark  had,  some 
how  been  a  little  too  irritating.  He  thought  savagely 
that  there  was  only  one  way  of  dealing  with  com 
pletely  honorable  fools  —  Ted  shouldn't,  by  the 
Lord!  — Oliver  had  gone  to  just  a  little  too  much 
trouble  in  the  last  dozen  hours  to  build  Ted  a  happy 


240  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

home  to  let  any  of  Ted's  personal  wishes  in  the 
matter  interrupt  him  now.  He  stepped  back  with 
a  gesture  of  defeat  but  his  feet  gripped  at  the  floor 
like  a  boxer's  and  his  eyes  fixed  burningly  on  the 
point  of  Ted's  jaw.  Wait  a  split-second  —  he 
wasn't  near  enough  —  now  —  there! 

His  fist  landed  exactly  where  he  had  meant  it  to 
and  for  an  instant  he  felt  as  if  he  had  broken  all 
the  bones  in  his  hand.  Ted  was  back  against  the 
wall,  his  mouth  dropping  open,  his  whole  face 
frozen  like  a  face  caught  in  a  snapshot  unawares 
to  a  sudden  glare  of  immense  and  ludicrous  as 
tonishment.  Then  he  began  to  give  at  the  knees 
like  'a  man  who  has  been  smitten  with  pie  in  a 
custard-comedy  and  Oliver  recovered  from  his  sur 
prise  at  both  of  them  sufficiently  to  step  in  and 
catch  him  as  he  slumped,  face  forward. 

He  laid  him  carefully  down  on  the  floor,  trying 
feverishly  to  remember  how  long  a  knockout  lasted. 
Not  nearly  long  enough,  anyway.  Ropes.  A  gag. 
His  eyes  roved  frantic'ally  about  the  kitchen. 
Towels!  " 

He  was  filling  Ted's  mouth  with  clean  dish-rag 
and  thinking  dully  that  it  was  just  like  handling  a 
man  in  the  last  stages  of  alcohol  —  the  body  had 
the  same  limp  refractory  heaviness  all  over  —  when 
he  heard  something  that  sounded  like  the  bursting  of 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  241 

a  large  blown-up  paper  bag  from  the  other  room. 
He  accepted  the  fact  with  neither  surprise  nor 
curiosity.  Mr.  Piper  had  shot  Mrs.  Severance. 
Or  Mrs.  Severance  had  shot  Mr.  Piper.  That  was 
all. 

As  soon  as  he  had  safely  disposed  of  Ted  —  for 
an  eery  moment  he  had  actually  considered  stowing 
him  away  in  a  drawer  of  the  kitchen-cabinet  —  it 
might  be  well  to  go  in  and  investigate  the  murder. 
And  then  either  Mrs.  Severance  or  Mr.  Piper  — 
whichever  it  was  of  the  two  that  remained  alive  — 
might  very  well  shoot  him  unless  he  or  she  had  shot 
himself  or  herself  first.  It  seemed  to  Oliver  that 
the  latter  event  would  save  everyone  a  great  deal 
of  trouble. 

He  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  being  left  alone  in 
a  perfectly  strange  apartment  with  two  corpses  and 
one  gagged,  bound  and  unconscious  best  friend  — 
but  he  liked  the  picture  of  himself  trying  to  make 
explanations  to  either  his  hostess  or  Mr.  Piper  when, 
in  either  case,  the  other  party  to  the  argument  would 
be  in  possession  of  a  loaded  revolver,  still  less.  He 
hoped  that  if  Mrs.  Severance  were  the  survivor  she 
had  had  a  sufficiently  Western  upbringing  at  least 
to  know  how  to  shoot.  He  had  no  particular  wish 
to  die  —  but  anything  was  better  than  being 
mangled  —  and  a  reminiscence  of  Hedda  Gabler's 


242  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

poet's  technique  with  firearms  caused  his  stomach 
to  contract  quite  painfully  as  he  tightened  the  knots 
around  Ted's  ankles.  Ted  was  the  devil  and  all  to 
get  out  on  the  fire-escape  —  and  then  you  had  to 
tie  him  so  that  he  wouldn't  roll  off. 

He  crawled  back  through  the  window,  dusted 
his  trousers,  and  settled  his  necktie  as  carefully  as 
if  he  were  going  to  be  married.  Married.  And  he 
had  hoped,  he  thought  rather  pitiably,  that  even 
though  Nancy  had  so  firmly  decided  to  blight  him 
forever  she  might  have  a  few  pleasant  memories 
of  their  engagement  at  least.  Instead  —  well,  he 
could  see  the  headlines  now.  "  Big  Financier, 
Youth  and  Mystery  Woman  Die  in  Triple  Slaying." 
"Dead  —  Oliver  Crowe,  Yale  1917,  of  Melgrove, 
L.  I." 

It  hadn't  been  his  job,  damn  it,  it  hadn't  been 
his  job  at  all.  It  was  now,  though,  with  Ted  per 
fectly  helpless  on  the  fire-escape  where  any  crazy 
person  could  take  pot-shots  at  him  as  if  he  were  a 
plaster  pipe  in  a  shooting  gallery.  The  idea  of  es 
cape  had  somehow  never  seriously  occurred  to  him 
—  what  had  happened  in  the  evening  already  had 
impressed  him  so  with  a  sense  of  inane  fatality  that 
he  could  not  even  conceive  of  the  possibility  of  any- 
thing's  coming  right.  In  any  event,  Ted,  tied  up 
the  way  he  was,  was  too  heavy  and  clumsy  to  carry 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  243 

down  even  the  most  ordinary  flight  of  stairs  —  and 
if  he  were  going  to  be  shot,  he  somehow  preferred  to 
gasp  his  last  breaths  out  on  a  comfortably  carpeted 
floor  rather  than  clinging  like  a  disreputable  spider 
to  the  iron  web  of  a  fire-escape. 

Oliver  sighed  —  Nancy's  firmness  had  admittedly 
quite  ruined  all  the  better  things  in  life  —  but  even 
the  merest  sort  of  mere  existence  had  got  to  be,  at 
times,  a  rather  pleasant  convention  —  how  pleasant, 
he  felt,  he  had  never  quite  realized  somehow  until 
just  now.  Then,  with  a  vague  idea  of  getting  what 
ever  was  to  happen  over  with  as  quickly  and  de 
cently  as  possible,  he  settled  his  tie  once  more  and 
trotted  meekly  through  the  dining-room  and  beyond 
the  curtains. 


XL 


"WHY,  Mr.  Piper!  "  was  Olivers  first  and  wholly 
inane  remark. 

It  was  not  what  he  had  intended  to  say  at  all  — 
something  rather  more  dramatic  and  on  the  lines  of 
"  Shoot  if  you  must  this  old  grey  head,  but  if  you 
will  only  listen  to  a  reasonable  explanation  —  "  had 
been  uppermost  in  his  mind.  But  the  sight  of 
Peter's  father  crouched  over  what  must  be  Mrs. 
Severance's  body,  his  weak  hands  fumbling  for  her 
wrist  and  heart,  his  voice  thin  with  a  senile  sorrow 
as  if  he  had  been  stricken  at  once  and  in  an  instant 
with  a  palsy  of  incurable  age,  brought  the  whole 
world  of  Southampton  and  house-parties  and  reality 
that  Oliver  thought  he  had  lost  touch  with  forever, 
back  to  him  so  vividly  that  all  he  could  do  was  gape 
at  the  tableau  on  the  floor. 

Mr.  Piper  looked  up  and  for  a  second  of  relief 
Oliver  thought  that  the  staring  eyes  had  not  recog 
nized  him  at  all.  Then  he  realized  from  the  look 
in  them  that  who  or  what  he  was  made  singularly 
little  difference  now  to  Mr.  Piper. 

244 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  245 

"Water!  "  croaked  Mr.  Piper.  "Water!  I've 
shot  her.  Oh,  poor  Rose,  poor  Rose!  "  and  he  was 
plucking  at  her  dress  again  with  absorbed,  incapable 
fingers. 

Oliver  looked  around  him.  The  gun.  There 
must  have  been  a  gun.  Where?  Oh  there  —  and 
as  he  picked  it  up  from  under  a  chair  he  did  so  with 
much  inward  reverence  in  spite  of  the  haste  he  took 
to  it,  for  he  felt  as  if  it  were  all  the  next  forty  years 
of  his  life  made  little  into  something  cold  and  small 
and  of  metal  that  he  was  lifting  like  a  doll  from  the 
floor. 

"  Water,"  said  Mr.  Piper  again  and  quite  horribly. 
"  Water  for  Rose." 

It  was  only  when  he  had  gone  back  to  the  kitchen 
and  started  looking  for  glasses  that  he  realized  that 
Mrs.  Severance  might  very  possibly  be  dying  out 
there  in  the  other  room.  Till  then  the  mere  fact 
that  he  was  not  dying  himself  had  been  too  large  in 
his  vision  to  give  him  time  to  develop  proper  sympa 
thy  for  others.  When  he  did,  though,  he  hurried 
bunglingly,  in  spite  of  a  nervous  flash  in  which  after 
accidentally  touching  the  revolver  in  his  pocket  he 
almost  threw  it  through  the  pane  of  the  nearest 
window  before  he  considered.  A  moment,  though, 
and  he  was  back  with  a  spilling  tumbler. 

"  Water,"  said  Mr.  Piper  with  querulous  satis 
faction.  "  Give  her  water." 


246  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Oliver  hesitated.  "  Where's  she  shot?  "  he  said 
sharply. 

"  I  don't  know.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  But  I  shot 
her.  I  shot  her.  Poor  Rose." 

It  was  certainly  odd,  there  being  no  blood  about, 
thought  Oliver  detachedly.  Internal  wounds? 
Possibly,  but  even  so.  He  dipped  his  fingers  in  the 
glass  of  water,  bent  over  Mrs.  Severance  and 
sprinkled  the  drops  as  near  her  closed  eyelids  as 
possible.  No  sound  came  from  her  and  not  a  muscle 
of  her  body  moved,  but  the  delicate  skin  of  the  eye 
lids  shivered  momentarily.  Oliver  drew  a  long 
breath  and  stepped  back. 

"She's  dead,"  said  Mr.  Piper.  "She's  dead." 
And  he  began  to  weep,  very  quietly  with  a  mouse 
like  sound  and  the  slow  horrible  tears  of  age. 

"  No  use  trying  water  on  her,"  said  Oliver  loudly, 
and  again  he  thought  he  saw  the  skin  of  the  eyelids 
twitch  a  little.  "  Is  there  any  brandy  here  —  any 
thing  like  that,  Mr.  Piper?  " 

"  K-kitchen,"  said  Mr.  Piper  with  a  sniff  and  one 
of  his  hands  came  away  from  Mrs.  Severance  to 
fumble  for  a  key. 

"  I'll  go  get  it,"  said  Oliver,  still  rather  loudly, 
and  took  one  step  away.  Then  he  bent  down  again 
swiftly  and  poured  the  whole  contents  of  the  tum 
bler  he  was  holding  into  the  little  hollow  of  Mrs. 
Severance's  throat  just  above  the  collar-bone. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  247 

"  Oh!  "  said  the  dead  Mrs.  Severance  in  the  tone 
of  one  who  has  turned  on  the  cold  in  a  shower  un 
expectedly,  and  she  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Rose!  "  said  Mr.  Piper  snifflingly.  "  You  aren't 
dead?  You  aren't  dead,  dear?  Rose!  Rose!  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Severance  again,  but  this  time 
tinily  and  with  a  flavor  of  third  acts  about  her,  and 
she  started  to  relax  rather  beautifully  into  a  Dying 
Gladiator  pose. 

"  I'll  get  some  more  water,  Mr.  Piper,"  said  Oliver 
briskly,  and  Mrs.  Severance  began  to  sit  up  again. 

"I  —  fainted  —  silly  of  me,"  she  said  with  a  con 
summate  dazedness.  "  Somebody  was  firing  revol 
vers  —  " 

"  I  tried  —  I  tried  —  I  —  t-tried  to  s-shoot  you, 
Rose,"  came  from  the  damp  little  heap  on  the  floor 
that  was  Mr.  Piper. 

"  Really,  Sargent  —  "  said  Mrs.  Severance  com 
fortably.  Then  she  turned  her  head  and  made  what 
Oliver  was  always  to  consider  her  most  perfect  re 
mark.  "  You  must  think  us  very  queer  people  in 
deed,  Mr.  Crowe?  "  she  said  smiling  questioningly 
up  at  him. 

Oliver's  smile  in  answer  held  relief  beyond  words. 
It  wasn't  the  ordinary  cosmos  again  —  quite  yet 
—  but  at  least  from  now  on  he  felt  perfectly  sure 
that  no  matter  how  irregular  anyone's  actions  might 


248  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

become,  in  speech  at  least,  every  last  least  one  of 
the  social  conventions  would  be  scrupulously 
observed. 

"  I  think  —  if  you  could  help  me,  Sargent  —  " 
said  Mrs.  Severance  delicately. 

"  Oh  yes,  yes,  yes,"  from  Mr.  Piper  very  eagerly 
and  with  Oliver's  and  his  assistance  Mrs.  Severance's 
invalid  form  was  aided  into  a  deep  chair. 

"  And  I  think,  now,"  she  went  on,  "  that  if  I  could 
have  just  'a  little  —  "  She  let  the  implication  float 
in  the  air  like  a  pretty  bubble.  "  Perhaps  —  it 
might  help  us  all  —  " 

"  Oh  certainly,  dear,"  from  Mr.  Piper.     "I  —  " 

"  In  the  kitchen,  you  said,  Mr.  Piper.  And  you 
must  let  me,"  from  Oliver  with  complete  decision. 

He  hadn't  bargained  for  that.  Mr.  Piper  might 
not  notice  Ted  on  the  fire-escape  —  but  then  again 
he  might  —  and  if  he  did  he  would  certainly  in- 
vestigate —  mute  bound  bodies  were  not  ordinary 
or  normal  adjuncts  of  even  the  most  illegal  of 
Riverside  Drive  apartments.  And  then.  Oliver's 
hand  went  down  over  the  revolver  in  his  pocket  —  if 
necessary  he  stood  perfectly  ready  to  hold  up  Mr. 
Piper  at  the  point  of  his  own  pistol  to  preserve 
the  inviolability  of  that  kitchen. 

But  Mrs.  Severance  saved  him  the  bother. 

"  If  you  would  be  so  kind?  "  she  said  simply. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  249 

"It's  in  the  small  cupboard — the  brown  one  — 
Sargent,  you  have  the  key?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Rose."  Mr.  Piper  was  looking,  Oliver 
thought,  rather  more  embarrassed  than  it  was  fair 
for  any  man  to  have  to  look  and  live.  His  eyes 
kept  going  pitifully  and  always  to  Mrs.  Severance 
and  then  creeping  'away.  He  produced  the  key, 
however,  and  gave  it  to  Oliver  silently  and  Oliver 
took  the  first  opportunity  when  he  was  through  the 
curtains  of  giving  whatever  fates  had  presided  over 
the  insanities  of  the  evening  a  long  cheer  with  nine 
Mrs.  Severances  on  the  end. 

He  carefully  stayed  in  the  kitchen  fifteen  minutes 
—  devoting  most  of  the  time  to  a  cautious  ex&mina- 
tion  of  Ted,  who  seemed  to  be  gradually  recovering 
consciousness.  At  least  he  stirred  a  little  when 
poked  by  Oliver's  foot. 

"  Sleeps  just  like  a  baby  —  oh,  the  sweet  little 
fellow  —  the  dear  little  fellow  —  "  hummed  Oliver 
wildly  as  he  made  a  few  last  additions  to  the  curious 
network  of  string  and  towels  with  which  he  had 
wound  Ted  into  the  fire-escape  as  if  he  had  been 
making  him  a  cocoon.  "  Well  —  well  —  well  — 
what  a  night  we're  having!  What  a  night  we're 
having  and  what  will  we  have  next?  " 

Then  he  remembered  the  reason  for  his  journey 
and  removed  a  bottle  of  brandy  from  the  brown  cup- 


250  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

board,  found  appropriate  glasses  and,  in  the  ice- 
chest,  club-soda  and  ginger  ale.  He  poured  himself 
a  drink  reminiscent  of  Paris  —  not  that  he  felt  he 
needed  it  for  the  reaction  from  bracing  himself  to 
die  like  a  Pythias  had  left  him  elvishly  grotesque  in 
mind  —  gathered  the  bottles  tenderly  in  his  arms 
like  small  glass  babies  and  went  back  to  the  living- 
room 


XLI 

AND  this  time  he  was  forced  to  pay  internal  high 
compliment  to  Mr.  Piper  as  well  as  to  Mrs.  Sever 
ance.  The  pitiful  grey  image,  its  knees  rumpled 
from  the  floor,  its  features  streaked  like  a  cheap 
paper  mask  with  ludicrous  dreadful  tears,  had  turned 
back  into  the  President  of  the  Commercial  Bank 
with  branches  in  Bombay  and  Melbourne  and  all 
the  business-capitals  of  the  world.  Not  that  Mr. 
Piper  was  at  ease  again,  exactly  —  to  be  at  ease 
under  the  circumstances  would  merely  have  proved 
him  brightly  inhuman  —  but  he  looked  as  Oliver 
thought  he  might  have  on  one  of  the  Street's  Black 
Mondays  when  only  complete  firmness  and  complete 
audacity  in  one  could  keep  even  the  Commercial 
afloat  at  'a  time  when  the  Stock  Exchange  had  turned 
into  a  floor-full  of  well-dressed  maniacs  and  houses 
that  everyone  had  thought  as  solid  as  granite  went 
to  pieces  like  sand  castles. 

Oliver  set  down  the  bottles  and  opened  them  with 
a  feeling  both  that  he  had  never  known  Mr.  Piper  at 
all  before,  only  Peter's  father,  and,  spookily,  that 
neither  Peter's  father  nor  the  terrible  old  man  who 

251 


252  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

had  wept  on  the  floor  beside  Mrs.  Severance  could 
have  'any  real  existence  —  this  was  such  a  complete 
and  unemotional  Mr.  Piper  he  had  before  him,  a  Mr. 
Piper,  too,  in  spite  of  all  the  oddities  of  the  present 
situation,  so  obviously  at  home  in  his  own  house. 

None  of  them  said  anything  in  particular  until 
the  mixture  in  the  glasses  had  sunk  about  half-way 
down.  Then  Mr.  Piper  remarked  in  a  pleasant 
voice,  "  I  don't  often  permit  myself  —  seldom  even 
before  the  country  adopted  prohibition  —  but  the 
present  circumstances  seem  to  be  —  er  —  unusual 
enough  —  to  warrant  —  "  smiled  cheerfully  and 
lifted  his  glass  again.  When  he  had  set  it  down  he 
looked  at  Mrs.  Severance,  then  at  Oliver,  and  then 
started  to  speak. 

Oliver  listened  with  some  tenseness,  knowing  only 
that  whatever  he  might  possibly  have  imagined 
might  happen,  what  would  happen,  to  judge  from 
the  previous  events  of  the  evening,  would  be  un 
doubtedly  so  entirely  different  that  prophecy  was 
no  use  at  all.  But,  even  so,  he  was  not  entirely  pre 
pared  for  the  unexpectedness  of  Mr.  Piper's  first 
sentence. 

"  I  feel  that  I  owe  you  very  considerable  apolo 
gies,  Oliver,"  the  President  of  the  Commercial  be 
gan  with  a  good  deal  of  stateliness.  "  In)  fact  I 
really  owe  you  so  many  that  it  leaves  me  at  rather 
a  loss  as  to  just  how  to  begin." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  253 

He  smiled  a  little  shyly. 

"  Rose  has  explained  everything,"  he  said,  and 
Oliver  looked  at  Mrs.  Severance  with  stupefied 
wonder  —  how? 

"  But  even  so,  there  remains  the  difficulty  —  of 
my  putting  myself  into  words." 

"  Silly  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Severance  easily,  and 
Oliver  noted  with  fresh  amazement  that  the  term 
seemed  to  come  from  her  as  naturally  and  almost 
conventionally  as  if  she  had  every  legal  Ameri 
can  right  to  use  it.  "Let  me,  dear."  And  Oliver 
felt  his  head  begin  to  go  round  like  a  pinwheel. 

Butj  then  —  but  she  really  couldn't  be  married 
to  Mr.  Piper  —  and  yet  somehow  she  seemed  so 
much  more  married  to  him  than  Mrs.  Piper  ever 
had  been  —  Oliver's  thoughts  played  fantastically 
for  an  instant  over  the  proposition  that  she  and  Mr. 
Piper  had  been  secretly  converted  to  Mohammedan 
ism  together  and  he  looked  at  Mr.  Piper's  grey  head 
almost  as  if  he  expected  to  see  a  large  red  fez  sud 
denly  drop  down  upon  it  from  the  ceiling. 

"  No,  Rose,"  and  again  Mr.  Piper's  voice  was 
stately.  "  This  is  my  —  difficulty.  No  matter  how 
hard  it  may  be." 

"  Of  course  I  did  not  understand  —  how  could  I? 
• —  that  Rose  —  was  such  a  very  good  friend  of  your 
sister's  and  all  your  family's.  Rose  had  told  me 


254  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

something  about  it,  I  believe  —  but  I  was  so  — 
foolishly  disturbed  —  when  I  came  in  —  that  really, 
I  —  well  I  must  admit  that  even  if  I  had  seen  you 
when  I  first  came  in  that  would  hardly  have  been 
the  thought  uppermost  in  my  mind  at  the  time." 
He  spoke  in  the  same  tone  of  kindly  reproof  toward 
himself  that  he  would  have  used  if  business  worries 
had  made  him  commit  a  small  but  definite  act  of 
inhospitality  toward  one  of  his  guests. 

"And  naturally  —  you  will  think  me  very  igno 
rant  indeed  of  my  son's  affairs  —  and  those  of  his 
friends  —  but  while  I  had  heard  from  Peter  —  of 
the  breaking  of  your  engagement  —  you  will  pardon 
me,  I  hope,  if  I  touch  upon  a  subject  that  must  be 
so  painful  to  you  —  I  had  no  idea  of  the  fact  that 
you  were  —  intending  to  leave  the  country  —  and 
knowing  Rose  thought  that  with  her  present  posi 
tion  on  '  Mode  '  —  "  he  paused. 

"  It  was  very  kind  indeed  of  Mrs.  Severance  to 
offer  to  do  what  she  could  for  me,"  said  Oliver  non- 
committally.  He  thought  he  got  the  drift  of  the 
story  now  —  a  sheer  one  enough  but  with  Mr.  Piper's 
present  reaction  toward  abasement  and  his  obvious 
wish  to  believe  whatever  he  could,  it  had  evidently 
sufficed. 

"  I  know  it  was  silly  of  me  having  Oliver  to 
dinner  here  alone  — "  said  Mrs.  Severance  with 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  255 

the  air  of  one  ready  to  apologize  for  a  very  minor 
impropriety.  "  Silly  and  wrong  —  but  Louise  was 
coming  too  until  she  telephoned  about  Jane  Ellen's 
little  upset  —  and  I  thought  we  could  have  such 
fun  getting  supper  together  with  Elizabeth  away.  I 
get  a  little  tired  of  always  entertaining  my  friends 
in  restaurants,  Sargent,  especially  when  I  want  to 
talk  to  them  without  having  to  shout.  And  really 
I  never  imagined  —  " 

She  looked  steadily  at  Mr.  Piper  and  he  seemed 
to  shrink  a  little  under  her  gaze. 

"As  for  Elizabeth,"  he  said  with  hurried  vindic- 
tiveness,  "  Elizabeth  shall  leave  tomorrow  morning. 


"  Oh,  we  might  as  well  keep  her,  Sargent,"  said 
Mrs.  Severance  placidly.  "  You  will  have  to  pay 
her  blackmail,  of  course  —  but  after  all  that's 
really  your  fault  a  little,  isn't  it?  —  and  it  seems  as 
if  that  was  more  or  less  what  you  had  to  do  with  any 
kind  of  passable  servant  nowadays.  And  Elizabeth 
is  perfection  —  as  a  servant.  As  police  —  "  she 
smiled  a  little  cruelly.  "Well,  we  shan't  go  into 
that,  but  I  think  it  would  be  so  much  better  to  keep 
her.  Then  we'll  be  getting  something  out  of  her  in 
return  for  our  blackmail,  don't  you  see?  " 

"  Perhaps.  Still  we  have  no  need  of  discussing 
that  now.  I  can  only  say  that  if  Elizabeth  is  to 
stay,  she  will  have  to  —  " 


256  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Reform?  My  dear  Sargent!  When  every 
thing  she  did  was  from  the  most  rigidly  moral 
motives?  I  had  no  idea  she  was  such  a  clever  cat, 
though  —  " 

"  She  will  have  ample  opportunities  of  exercising 
her  cleverness  in  jail  if  I  can  find  any  means  of  get 
ting  her  there,  and  I  think  I  can.  Really,"  said 
Mr.  Piper  reflectively,  "  really  when  I  think  —  " 

Then  he  stopped. 

"  But  you're  still  waiting  for  an  —  explanation  — 
aren't  you,  Oliver?  " 

"  Having  been  very  nearly  assassinated  because  of 
Elizabeth's  abilities  in  telephone  conversation,  I 
should  think  he  might  very  well  be  interested  in 
knowing  what  is  going  to  happen  to  her.  How 
ever  —  " 

"  Yes,"  and  Mr.  Piper's  face  became  very  sober. 
He  looked  at  his  glass  as  if  he  would  be  willing  to 
resign  the  Presidency  of  the  Commercial  in  its  favor 
if  it  would  only  explain  to  Oliver  for  him. 

"  You  were  saying,  Sargent?  "  said  Mrs.  Sever 
ance  implacably. 

"  I  was.  Well,  I,"  he  began,  and  then  "  You," 
and  stopped,  and  then  he  began  again. 

"  I  said  that  it  would  be  —  difficult  —  for  me  to 
explain  matters  to  you  fully,  Oliver;  I  find  it  to  be 
—  even  more  difficult  than  I  had  supposed.  I  — 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  257 

it  is  rather  hard  for  a  man  of  my  age  to  defend  his 
manner  of  life  to  one  of  your  age,  even  when  he 
himself  is  wholly  convinced  that  that  manner  is  not 
—  unrighteous.  And  in  this  particular  case,  to  one 
of  his  son's  best  friends." 

He  twisted  his  fingers  around  the  rim  of  his  glass. 
Oliver  started  to  speak  but  Mr.  Piper  put  up  his 
hand.  "  No  —  please  —  it  will  be  so  much  easier 
if  I  finish  what  I  have  to  say  first,"  he  said  rather 
pleadingly. 

"  Well  —  the  situation  here  between  Rose  and 
myself  —  must  be  plain  to  you  now."  Oliver 
nodded,  he  hoped  in  not  too  knowing  a  way. 
"  Plain.  How  that  situation  arose —  is  another 
matter.  And  a  matter  that  would  take  a  good  deal 
too  long  to  tell.  Except  that,  given  the  premises 
from  which  we  set  forth  —  what  followed  was  per 
haps  as  inevitable  as  most  things  are  in  life. 

"  That  situation  has  been  known  to  no  other 
person  on  earth  but  ourselves  —  all  these  years. 
And  now  it  is  known.  Well,  Oliver,  there  you  have 
it.  And  you  happen  to  have  us  also  —  entirely  in 
your  hands.  Because  of  a  spying,  greedy  servant 
—  and  my  own  stupidity  and  distrust  —  we  have 
been  completely  found  out.  And  by  one  of  my  son's 
best  friends. 

"  I  wish  that  I  could   apologize  for  —  all  the 


258  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

scene  before  this.  Better.  I  hope  that  you  will 
believe  that  I  am  trying  to  do  so  now.  But  I  seldom 
make  apologies,  Oliver,  even  when  I  am  evidently 
in  the  wrong  —  and  this  hasn't  been  one  of  my 
easiest  to  make.  And  now." 

He  sat  back  and  waited,  his  fingers  curled  round 
his  glass.  And,  as  he  looked  at  him,  Oliver  felt  a 
little  sickishr  for,  on  the  whole,  he  respected  Mr. 
Piper  a  good  deal  more  than  his  irreverent  habit 
of  mind  permitted  him  to  respect  most  older  people, 
and  at  the  same  time  felt  pitifully  sorry  for  him  — 
it  must  be  intensely  humiliating  to  have  to  explain 
this  way  —  and  yet  the  only  thing  Oliver  could  do 
was  to  take  the  largest  advantage  possible  of  his 
very  humiliation  and  straightforwardness  —  the 
truth  could  still  do  nothing  at  all  but  wreck  every 
body  concerned. 

"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  Mr.  Piper,  to  keep 
everything  I  know  entirely  and  completely  secret," 
said  Oliver,  slowly,  trying  to  make  the  large  words 
seem  as  little  magniloquent  as  possible.  "  That's 
all  I  can  say,  I  guess  —  but  it's  true  —  you  can 
really  depend  on  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Piper  quite  simply.  "  I 
believe  you,  Oliver,"  and  again  Oliver  felt  that 
little  burn  of  shame  in  his  mind. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Severance,  copying 

Mr.  Piper  finished  his  drink  and  rose. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  259 

"And  now,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  misunderstand 
me,"  he  said.  "  I  have  not  come  to  my  age  without 
realizing  that  there  are  certain  services  that  cannot 
be  paid  for.  But  you  have  done  me  a  very  great 
service,  Oliver  —  a  service  for  which  I  should  have 
been  glad  to  give  nearly  everything  material  that  I 
possess.  I  merely  wish  you  to  know  that  in  case 
you  should  ever  need  —  assistance  —  from  an 
older  man — in  any  way — that  is  clumsily  put,  but 
I  can  think  of  no  other  suitable  word  at  the  moment 

—  I  am  entirely  at  your  disposal.    Entirely  so." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Oliver  a  little  stiffly.  Mr. 
Piper  was  certainly  heaping  coals  of  fire.  Then  he 
wondered  for  an  instant  just  what  Mrs.  Ellicott 
would  think  if  she  could  have  heard  the  President 
of  the  Commercial  say  that  to  him  — 

Mr.  Piper  was  moving  slowly  toward  the  door, 
and  the  politeness  that  had  been  his  at  the  beginning 
of  the  conversation  was  nothing  to  his  supreme  po 
liteness  now. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  as  if  he  were  asking  every 
body's  pardon  for  an  entirely  unintentional  intru 
sion,  "  I  really  must  be  getting  back  to  Southampton 

—  and  you  and  Rose  I  imagine  have  still  quite  a 
bit  to  talk  over  —  " 

"But  —  "  said  Oliver  clumsily,  "but  Mr. 
Piper  —  "  and 


26o  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Must  you  really,  dear?  "  said  Mrs.  Severance  in 
the  softest  tones  of  conventional  wifely  reproach. 

Her  manner  was  ideal  but  Oliver  somehow  and 
suddenly  felt  all  the  admiration  he  had  ever  had  for 
her  calm  power  blow  away  from  him  like  smoke. 
He  could  not  help  extremest  appreciation  of  her 
utter  poise  —  he  never  would  be  able  to,  he  sup 
posed  —  but  from  now  on  it  would  be  the  some 
what  shivery  appreciation  that  anyone  with  sen 
sitive  nerves  might  give  to  the  smooth  mechanical 
efficiency  of  a  perfectly-appointed  electric-chair. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Piper  perfectly,  "  I  insist.  You 
certainly  could  not  have  finished  your  discussion 
before  I  came  and  for  the  present  —  well  —  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  intruded  quite  long  enough. 
I  wish  it,"  he  added  and  Oliver  understood. 

"  You  are  staying  with  us,  over  tomorrow,  Oliver, 
are  you  not?  "  said  Mr.  Piper  calmly,  and  Oliver 
assented.  "  I  suppose  we  shall  see  each  other  at 
breakfast  then?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir."  And  then  Oliver  tried  to  rise  to 
Mr.  Piper's  magnificence  of  conventionality  in  re 
mark.  "  By  the  way,  sir,  I'm  driving  back  in 
Peter's  car  —  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Severance  and  I  have 
finished  our  talk  —  I  couldn't  pick  you  up  anywhere, 
sir,  could  I?  " 

Mr.  Piper  smiled,  consulting  his  watch. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  261 

"  There  is  an  excellent  train  at  10.33  —  &11  ex 
cellent  one  —  "  he  said,  and  again  Oliver  was  dum- 
founded  to  realize  that  the  whole  march  of  events 
in  the  apartment  had  taken  scarcely  two  hours. 

"Thank  you,  Oliver,  but  I  think  I  had  better 
take  that.  Not  that  I  distrust  your  driving  in  the 
least,  but  it  will  be  fairly  slow  going,  I  imagine, 
over  some  of  those  roads  at  night  —  and  this  was 
one  evening  on  which  I  had  really  intended  to  get 
a  good  night's  sleep." 

He  smiled  again  very  quaintly. 

"  You'll  be  dancing  as  soon  as  you  get  back,  I 
suppose?  I  understand  there  is  to  be  a  dance  this 
evening?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  —  at  least,  I  guess  so.  Told  Peter  I'd 
show  up." 

"  Youth,"  said  Mr.  Piper.  "  Youth."  There  was 
a  certain  accent  of  dolefulness  in  the  way  he  said  it. 

"  And  now  I  shall  call  a  taxi,"  he  said  briskly. 

"  Can't  I  take  you  down  —  ?  "  Oliver  began,  but 
"  No,  no.  I  insist,"  said  Mr.  Piper  a  little  irri- 
tatedly,  and  then  Oliver  understood  that  though  he 
might  be  quixotic  on  occasion,  he  was  both  human 
and  —  Oliver  hesitated  over  the  words,  they  seemed 
so  odd  to  his  youth  to  be  using  of  a  man  who  was 
certainly  old  enough  to  be  his  father  —  really  in 
love  with  Mrs.  Severance  after  all. 


262  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

So,  until  Mr.  Piper's  taxi  came  they  chatted  of 
indifferent  matters  much  as  they  might  have  while 
watching  people  splashing  about  in  the  water  from 
the  porch  of  the  swimming  pool  at  Bar  Harbor  — 
and  Oliver  felt  exceedingly  in  the  way.  These  last 
dozen  minutes  were  the  hardest  to  get  through  of 
the  whole  evening,  he  thought  rather  dizzily;  up  till 
now  he  had  almost  forgotten  about  Ted,  but 
it  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  everything  else 
that  had  happened  if  just  as  Mr.  Piper  were  leaving, 
a  formal  farewell  on  his  lips  and  everything 
straightened  out  to  everyone's  conspiratorial  or 
generously  befooled  satisfaction,  Ted  should  stagger 
into  the  room  like  the  galvanized  corpse  of  a  Pharoah 
wrapped  in  towels  instead  of  mummy-cloth  and 
everything  from  revolver-shots  to  a  baring  of  inmost 
heart-histories  would  have  to  be  gone  through  with 
again. 

So  when  Oliver  heard  the  telephone  ring  again 
he  knew  it  was  too  good  to  be  true,  and,  even  when 
Mr.  Piper  started  to  answer  it,  was  struck  chilly  with 
a  hopeless  fear  that  it  might  be  police.  But  Fate 
had  obviously  got  a  trifle  bored  of  her  sport  with 
them,  or  very  possibly  tired  out  by  the  intricacy  of 
her  previous  combinations  —  for  it  was  only  the 
taxi  after  all  and  Mr.  Piper  was  at  the  door. 

"  No  use  saying  good-by  to  you  now,  is  there, 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  263 

Oliver?  "  he  said  quietly,  but  held  out  his  hand 
nevertheless. 

"  Well,  good-by,  Rose,"  as  he  scrupulously  shook 
hands  with  Mrs.  Severance. 

"  Good-by,  Sargent,"  and  then  the  door  he  had  had 
such  difficulty  in  opening  two  hours  before  had  shut 
behind  him  and  Oliver  and  Mrs.  Severance  were 
left  looking  at  each  other. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Severance  with  a  small  gasp. 

"  Well,"  said  Oliver.    "  Well,  well!  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Oliver,  and  he  walked  over 
to  the  table  and  poured  himself  what  he  thought  as 
he  looked  at  it  was  very  like  the  father  and  mother 
of  all  drinks. 

"  You  might  —  do  something  like  that  for  me  —  " 
said  Mrs.  Severance  helplessly.  "  If  you  did  —  I 
think  —  I  might  be  able  to  think  —  oh,  well!" 

"  Well,"  repeated  Oliver  like  a  toast  as  he  tipped 
the  bottle  and  the  drink  which  he  poured  for  Mrs. 
Severance  was  so  like  unto  his  drink  that  it  would 
have  taken  a  fine  millimeter-gauge  to  measure  the 
difference  between  them. 

Mrs.  Severance  went  back  to  her  chair  and  Oliver 
sank  into  the  chair  that  had  been  previously  occu 
pied  by  Mr.  Piper.  As  he  stretched  back  luxuriously 
something  small  and  hard  and  bulging  made  him 
aware  of  itself  in  his  pocket. 


264  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Oh  Lord,  I  forgot  I  still  had  that  gun  of  Mr. 
Piper's!  "  said  Oliver  inconsequentially. 

"  Have  you?  "  said  Mrs.  Severance.  The  fact  did 
not  seem  to  strike  her  as  being  of  any  particular 
importance.  They  both  drank  long  and  frankly  and 
thirstily,  as  if  they  were  drinking  well-water  after 
having  just  come  in  from  a  hot  mountain  trail.  And 
again,  and  for  a  considerable  time,  neither  spoke. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Severance  finally,  with  a 
blur  of  delicate  scorn,  "  I  suppose  our  friend  Mr. 
Billett  —  got  away  safely?  " 

Her  words  brought  up  a  picture  of  Ted  to  Oliver, 
—  Ted  netted  like  a  fish  out  there  on  the  fire- 
escape,  swaddled  up  like  a  great  papoose  in  all  the 
towels  and  dish-cloths  Oliver  had  been  able  to  find. 
The  release  was  too  sudden,  too  great  —  the  laughter 
came  —  the  extreme  laughter  —  the  laughter  like  a 
giant.  He  swayed  in  his  chair,  choking  and  beating 
his  knees  and  making  strange  lion-like  sounds. 

"  Ted,"  he  gasped.  "  Ted!  Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Sever 
ance,  Ted  didn't  get  away!  He  didn't  get  away  at 
all  —  Ted  didn't!  He  didn't  because  you  see  he 
couldn't.  He's  out  on  the  fire-escape  now  —  oh,  wait 
till  you  see  him,  oh  Ted,  oh  Glory,  oh  what  a  night, 
what  a  night,  what  a  night!  " 


XLII 

It  took  a  good  deal  of  explaining,  however,  to  make 
Ted  understand.  He  was  still  tightly  bound,  though 
very  angrily  conscious  when  they  found  him  and  his 
language  when  Oliver  removed  the  improvised  gag 
was  at  first  of  such  an  army  variety  that  Oliver 
wondered  doubtfully  if  he  hadn't  better  replace  it 
until  he  got  Ted  alone.  Also  Oliver  was  forced  to 
curse  himself  rather  admiringly  for  the  large  num 
ber  of  unnecessary  knots  he  had  used,  when  he 
started  to  unravel  his  captive. 

When  they  finally  got  him  completely  untangled 
Ted's  first  remarks  were  hardly  those  of  gratitude. 
He  declared  sulkily  that  his  head  felt  as  if  it  were 
going  to  split  open,  that  he  must  have  a  bump  on 
the  back  of  it  as  big  as  a  squash  and  that  it  wasn't 
Oliver's  fault  if  he  hadn't  caught  pneumonia  out 
on  that  fire-escape  —  the  air,  believe  him,  was  cold! 

Mrs.  Severance,  however,  and  as  usual,  rose  to  the 
occasion  and  produced  a  bottle  of  witch-hazel  from 
the  bathroom  with  which  she  insisted  on  bathing  the 
bump  till  Ted  remarked  disgruntledly  that  he  smelt 

265- 


266  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

like  a  hospital.  Oliver  watched  the  domestic  scene 
with  frantic  laughter  tearing  at  his  vitals  —  this  was 
so  entirely  different  and  imromantic  an  end  to  the 
evening  from  that  from  which  Oliver  had  set  out  to 
rescue  Ted  like  a  spectacled  Mr.  Grundy  and  which 
Ted  in  his  gust  of  madness  had  so  bitterly  and 
grandiosely  planned. 

Then  they  moved  back  into  the  living-room  and 
the  story  was  related  consecutively,  by  Oliver  with 
fanciful  adornments,  by  Mrs.  Severance  with  a  chill 
self-satisfaction  that  Oliver  noticed  with  pleasure 
was  like  touching  icicles  to  Ted.  Ted  gave  his  ver 
sion —  which  only  amounted  to  waking  up  on  the 
fire-escape,  trying  to  shout  and  succeeding  merely 
in  getting  mouthfuls  of  towels  —  Oliver  preened 
himself  a  little  there  —  and  lying  there  stoically  and 
getting  more  and  more  furious  until  he  was  rescued. 
And  while  he  told  it  he  kept  looking  everywhere  in 
the  room  but  at  Rose.  And  then  Oliver  remembered 
Mr.  Piper  and  looked  at  his  watch  —  1 1 .04.  He 
rose  and  gazed  at  Mrs.  Severance. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  and  then  caught  her  eye.  It 
was  chilly,  doubtless,  and  even  by  Oliver's  uncon 
ventional  standards  he  could  not  think  of  her  as 
anything  but  a  highly  dangerous  and  disreputable 
woman  —  but  that  eye  was  -alive  with  an  irony  and 
humor  that  seemed  to  him  for  a  moment  more  per 
fect  than  those  in  any  person  he  had  ever  seen. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  267 

"Must  you  go?  "  she  said  sweetly.  "It's  been 
such  an  interesting  party  —  so  original,"  she  hesi 
tated.  "Isn't  that  the  word?  Of  course,"  she 
shrugged,  "  I  can  see  that  you're  simply  dying  to  get 
away  and  yet  you  can  hardly  complain  that  I 
haven't  been  an  entertaining  hostess,  can  you?  " 

"Hardly,"  said  Oliver  meekly,  and  Ted  said 
nothing  —  he  merely  looked  down  as  if  his  eyes 
were  augers  and  his  only  concern  in  life  was  screw 
ing  them  into  the  floor. 

"Must  you  go?"  she  repeated  with  merciless 
mocking.  "  When  it  has  been  fun  —  and  I  don't 
suppose  we'll  ever  see  each  other  again  in  all  our 
lives?  For  I  can  hardly  come  out  to  Melgrove  now, 
can  I,  Oliver?  And  after  you've  had  a  quiet 
brotherly  talk  with  her,  I  suppose  I'll  even  have  to 
give  up  lunching  with  Louise.  And  as  for  Ted  — 
poor  Ted  —  poor  Mr.  Billett  with  all  his  decora 
tions  of  the  Roller  Towel,  First  Class  —  Mr.  Billett 
must  be  a  child  that  has  been  far  too  well  burnt  this 
evening,  not,  in  any  imaginable  future  to  dread  the 
fire?  » 

Both  flushed,  Ted  deeper  perhaps  than  Oliver,  but 
neither  answered.  There  really  did  not  seem  to  be 
anything  for  them  to  say.  She  moved  gently  toward 
the  door  —  the  ideal  hostess.  And  as  she  moved 
she  talked  and  every  word  she  said  was  a  light  little 


268  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

feathered  barb  that  fell  on  them  softly  as  snowflakes 
and  stuck  like  tar. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  mind  if  I  send  you  wedding 
presents  —  both  of  you  —  oh,  of  course  I'll  be  quite 
anonymous  but  it  will  be  such  a  pleasure  —  if  you'll 
both  of  you  only  marry  nice  homey  girls!  "  Ted 
started  at  this  as  if  he  had  been  walking  barefoot 
and  had  stepped  on  a  wasp  and  she  caught  him 
instantly. 

"  Dear,  dear,  so  Mr.  Billett  has  serious  intentions 
also  —  and  I  thought  a  little  while  ago  that  I  was 
really  in  Mr.  Billett's  confidence  —  it  only  shows 
how  little  one  can  tell.  As  for  Oliver,  he  of  course 
is  blighted  —  at  present  —  but  I'm  sure  that  that 
will  not  last  very  long  —  one  always  finds  most  ade 
quate  consolation  sooner  or  later  though  possibly 
not  in  the  way  in  which  one  originally  supposed." 
She  sighed  elfinly  as  Oliver  muttered  under  his 
breath. 

"  What  was  that,  Oliver?  Oh,  no,  I  am  not  at 
all  the  sort  of  person  that  writes  anonymous  letters 
to  one's  wife  —  or  family  —  or  sister,"  a  spaced  little 
pause  between  each  noun.  "And  besides  it  wouldn't 
be  much  use  in  me,  would  it?  for  of  course  you 
young  gentlemen  will  tell  the  young  ladies  you 
marry  everything  about  yourselves  —  all  honorable 
young  people  do.  And  then  too,"  she  spread  out 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  269 

her  hands,  "  to  be  frank.  We've  all  been  so  beauti 
fully  frank  about  ourselves  tonight  —  that's  one 
thing  I  have  liked  so  much  about  the  evening  — 
well,  it  would  hardly  be  worth  my  while  to  take 
lessons  in  blackmailing  from  Elizabeth  if  the  only 
subjects  on  which  I  could  apply  them  were  two  im 
pecunious  young  men.  And,  oh,  I  realize  most 
perfectly  —  and  please  don't  misunderstand  me!  — 
that  we're  all  of  us  thieves  together  so  to  speak  and 
only  getting  along  on  each  other's  sufferance.  But 
then,  if  one  of  us  ever  starts  telling,  even  a  little, 
he  or  she  can  hardly  do  so  in  any  way  that  will  re 
dound  to  anything  but  his  or  her  discredit  and 
social  obliteration  —  how  nicely  I've  put  that!  — 
so  I  don't  think  any  of  us  will  be  very  anxious  to 
tell. 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Billett  —  and  when  you  do  marry, 
please  send  me  an  invitation  —  oh  I  shan't  come, 
I've  been  far  too  well  brought-up  —  but  I  must  send 
—  appreciations  —  and  so  must  have  the  address. 
We  have  had  a  pleasant  acquaintanceship  together, 
haven't  we?  —  perhaps  a  little  more  pleasant  on  my 
side  than  on  yours  —  but  even  so  it's  so  nice  to 
think  that  nothing  has  ever  happened  that  either 
of  us  could  really  regret. 

"  Just  remember  that  the  only  person  I  could  in 
criminate  you  to  would  be  Mr.  Piper,  and  not  even 


270  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S   PRIDE 

there  very  much,  due  to  Sargent's  melodramatic 
appearance  in  the  middle  of  dinner.  But  I  shan't 
even  there — it  would  mean  incriminating  myself  a 
little  too  much  too,  don't  you  know?  and  even  if 
the  apartment  here  does  get  a  trifle  lonely  one 
evening  and  another,  I  have  got  to  be  extraordinarily 
fond  of  it  and  I  couldn't  have  nearly  as  nice  a  one 
—  or  as  competent  an  Elizabeth  —  on  what  they 
pay  me  on  '  Mode.'  So  I'll  keep  it,  I  think,  if  you 
don't  mind. 

"But  that  may  make  you  a  little  more  com 
fortable  when  you  think  things  over  —  and  I'm 
sure  we  all  deserve  to  be  very  comfortable  indeed 
for  quite  a  long  while  after  the  very  trying  time  we've 
just  been  through. 

"  Good-by,  and  I  assure  you  that  even  if  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  think  of  you  in  the  future  except 
as  all  wrapped  up  in  the  middle  of  those  absurd 
towels,  I  shall  think  of  you  quite  kindly  though 
rather  ridiculously  nevertheless.  And  now  if  you 
will  just  run  away  a  minute  and  wait  down  in  that 
car  of  Sargent's  that  Oliver  —  borrowed  — so  effec 
tively —  because  I  must  have  one  motherly  word 
with  Oliver  alone  before  we  part  forever!  Thank 
you  so  much!  Good-byl  " 


XLIII 

So  OLIVER  was  left  alone  with  her,  he  didn't  know 
why.  He  noticed,  however,  that  when  she  came  to 
talk  to  him,  though  it  was  still  with  lightness,  she 
was  at  no  particular  effort  any  longer  to  make  the 
lightness  anything  but  a  method  of  dealing  with 
wounds. 

"  Mr.  Billett  does  not  seem  quite  to  appreciate 
exactly  how  much  your  timely  pugilistics  did  for 
him,"  she  observed.  "  Or  exactly  how  they  might 
have  affected  you." 

Oliver  set  his  jaw,  rather.  He  was  hardly  going 
to  discuss  what  Ted  might  or  might  not  owe  him 
with  Mrs.  Severance.  Hardly. 

"  No,  I  suppose  you  wouldn't,"  she  said  uncan 
nily.  Then  she  spoke  again  and  this  time  if  the 
tone  was  airy  it  was  with  the  airiness  of  a  defeated 
swordsman  apologizing  for  having  been  killed  by 
such  a  clumsy  stroke  of  fence. 

"  But  I  have  some  —  comprehension  —  of  just 
what  you  did.  And  besides  —  I  seem  to  have  a 
queer  foible  for  telling  the  truth  just  now.  Odd, 

271 


272  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

isn't  it,  when  I've  been  lying  so  successfully  all 
evening?" 

"  Very  successfully,"  said  Oliver,  and,  to  his 
astonishment,  saw  her  wince. 

"  Yes  —  well.  Well,  I  don't  know  quite  why  I'm 
keeping  you  here  —  though  there  was  something  I 
wanted  to  say  to  you,  I  believe  —  in  a  most  serious 
and  grandmotherly  manner  too  —  the  way  of  a 
grown  woman  as  Sargent  would  put  it  —  poor  Sar 
gent  —  "  She  laughed. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  remember  now.  It  was  only  that  I 
don't  think  you  need  —  worry  —  about  Mr.  Billett 
any  more.  You  see?  " 

"I  think  so,"  said  Oliver  with  some  incom 
prehension. 

"  Seeing  him  done  up  that  way  in  towels,"  she 
mused  with  a  flicker  of  mirth.  "  And  the  way  he 
looked  at  me  when  I  was  telling  about  things  after 
wards —  oh  it  wouldn't  do,  you  know,  Oliver,  it 
wouldn't  do!  Your  friend  is  —  essentially  —  a  — 
highly  —  Puritan  —  young  man,"  she  added  slowly. 
Oliver  started  —  that  was  one  of  the  things  so  few 
people  knew  about  Ted. 

"Oh  yes  —  wholly.  Even  hi  the  way  he'd  go 
to  the  devil.  He'd  do  it  with  such  a  religious  con 
viction —  take  it  so  hard.  It  would  eat  him  up. 
Completely.  And  it  isn't  —  amusing  —  to  go  to  the 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  273 

devil  with  anybody  whose  diabolism  would  be  so 
efficiently  pious  —  a  reversed  kind  of  Presbyterian- 
ism.  We  wouldn't  do  that,  you  know  —  you  or  my 
self,"  and  for  an  instant  as  she  spoke  Oliver  felt 
what  he  characterized  as  a  most  damnable  feeling 
of  kinship  with  her. 

It  was  true.  Oliver  had  been  struck  with  that 
during  his  army  experiences  —  things  somehow  had 
never  seemed  to  stick  to  him  the  way  they  had 
seemed  to  with  Ted. 

"  Which  is  one  reason  that  I  feel  so  sure  Mr. 
Billett  will  get  on  very  well  with  Sargent's  daughter 
—  if  his  Puritan  principles  don't  make  him  feel  too 
much  as  if  he  were  linking  her  for  life  to  a  lost 
soul,"  went  on  Mrs.  Severance. 

"  Wha-a-atf  " 

"  My  dear  Oliver,  whatever  my  failings  may  be, 
I  have  some  penetration.  Mr.  Billett  was  garrulous 
at  times,  I  fear  —  young  men  are  so  -apt  to  be  with 
older  women.  Oih  no  —  he  was  beautifully  sure  that 
he  was  not  betraying  himself  —  the  dear  ostrich. 
And  that  letter  —  really  that  was  clumsy  of  both  of 
you,  Oliver  —  when  I  could  see  the  handwriting  — 
all  modern  and  well-bred  girls  seem  to  write  the 
same  curly  kind  of  hand  somehow  —  and  then  Sar 
gent's  address  in  embossed  blue  letters  on  the  back. 
And  I  couldn't  have  suspected  him  of  carrying  on  an 


274  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

intrigue  with  Mrs.  Piper!  "  and  Oliver  was  forced  to 
smile  at  her  tinkle  of  laughter.  Then  she  grew  a 
little  earnest. 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  was  —  Mr.  Billett  —  I  wanted 
so  —  exactly,"  she  mused.  "  It  was  more  —  Mr. 
Billett's  age  —  Mr.  Billett's  undeniable  freshness  — 
if  you  see.  I'm  not  quite  a  Kipling  vampire  —  no 
—  a  vampire  that  wants  to  crunch  the  bones  —  or 
do  vampires  crunch  bones?  I  believe  they  only  act 
like  babies  with  bottles  —  nasty  of  them,  isn't  it?  — 
But  one  gets  to  a  definite  age  —  and  Sargent's  a 
dear  but  he  has  all  the  defects  of  a  husband  —  and 
things  begin  slipping  away,  slipping  away  —  " 

She  made  a  motion  of  sifting  between  her  hands, 
letting  fall  light  grains  of  a  precious  substance  that 
the  hands  were  no  longer  young  enough  to  keep. 

"  And  life  goes  so  queerly  and  keeps  moving  on 
like  a  tramp  in  front  of  a  policeman  till  you've 
started  being  gray  and  taking  off  your  corset  every 
time  you're  alone  because  you  like  being  com 
fortable  better  than  having  a  waist-line  —  and 
you've  never  had  anything  to  settle  you,"  her  face 
twitched,  "  not  children  —  nor  even  the  security  of 
marriage  —  nothing  but  work  that  only  interests 
part  of  you  —  and  this  —  " 

She  spread  her  hands  at  the  apartment. 

"Well  —  what  a  lot  of  nonsense  I'm  talking  — 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  275 

and  keeping  Mr.  Billett  out  in  the  car  when  he's 
sure  he  has  pneumonia  already  —  how  unkind  of 
me.  You  must  think  me  a  very  immoral  old  woman, 
don't  you,  Oliver?  " 

"I  think  you're  very  sporting,"  said  Oliver, 
truthfully. 

"Not  very.  If  I  really  wanted  Mr.  Billett, 
you  see."  Her  eyes  sparkled.  "I'm  afraid  you 
wouldn't  think  me  sporting  at  all  —  in  that  case. 
But  then  I  don't  think  you'd  have  been  able  to  — 
save  —  anybody  I  really  wanted  as  you  did  Mr. 
Billett."  She  spoke  slowly.  "  Even  with  that  very 
capable  looking  right  hand.  But  in  case  you're 
still  worried  —  " 

"  I'm  not,  really." 

She  paid  no  attention. 

"  In  case  you're  still  worried  —  what  I  told  Mr. 
Billett  was  true.  In  the  first  place,  Sargent  would 
never  believe  me,  anyway.  In  the  second  place  it 
would  mean  breaking  with  Sargent  —  and  do  you 
know  I'm  rather  fond  of  Sargent  in  my  own  way?  — 
and  a  thing  like  that  —  well,  you  saw  how  he  was 
tonight  —  it  would  mean  more  things  like  revolvers 
and  I  hate  revolvers.  And  hurting  Sargent  —  and 
ruining  Mr.  Billett  who  is  a  genuinely  nice  boy  and 
can't  help  being  a  Puritan,  though  I  never  shall 
forget  the  way  he  looked  in  those  towels.  Still,  I'm 


276  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

rather  fond  of  him  too  —  oh,  I'm  perfectly  una 
shamed  about  it,  it's  quite  in  an  aunty  way  now  and 
he'll  never  see  me  again  if  he  can  help  it. 

"  And  making  Sargent's  daughter  —  who  must  be 
charming  from  what  I  hear  of  (her  —  but  charming 
or  not,  she  happens  to  be  a  woman  and  I  have  a 
feeling  that,  being  a  woman,  life  will  hurt  her  quite 
sufficiently  without  my  adding  my  wholly  vicarious 
share.  Oh,  I'm  perfectly  harmless  now,  Oliver,"  she 
made  a  pretty  gesture  with  her  hands.  "  You  and 
Sargent  and  the  fire-escape  between  you  have  drawn 
my  fangs." 

"  I  can't  exactly  —  thank  you,"  said  Oliver,  "  but 
I  do  repeat  —  you're  sporting." 

"  Never  repeat  a  compliment  to  a  woman  over 
twenty  and  seldom  then."  She  looked  at  him  re 
flectively.  "  The  same  woman,  that  is.  There  is 
such  a  great  deal  I  could  teach  you  though,  really," 
she  said.  "  You're  much  more  teachable  than  Mr. 
Billett,  for  instance,"  and  Oliver  felt  a  little  shudder 
of  terror  go  through  him  for  a  moment  at  the  way 
she  said  it.  But  she  laughed  again. 

"  I  shouldn't  worry.  And  besides,  you're  blighted, 
aren't  you?  —  and  they're  un teachable  till  they  re 
cover.  Well. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  was  something  else  I  meant  to  be 
serious  about.  Sargent  said  something  about  our  — 


YOUNG   PEOPLE'S   PRIDE  277 

disappearing,  and  all  that.  Well,  Sargent  has  always 
been  enamored  of  puttering  around  a  garden  some 
where  in  an  alias  and  old  trousers  with  me  to  make 
him  lemonade  when  he  gets  overheated  —  and  so  far 
I've  humored  him  —  but  I've  really  never  thought 
very  much  of  the  idea.  That  would  be  —  for  me  — 
a  particularly  stupid  way  of  going  to  seed."  She 
was  wholly  in  earnest  now.  "And  I  haven't  the 
slightest  intention  of  going  to  seed  with  Sargent  or 
anybody  else  for  a  very  long  time  yet.  If  it  ever 
comes  definitely  to  that  I  shall  break  with  Sargent; 
you  can  depend  on  my  selfishness  —  arrogance  — 
anything  you  like  for  that.  Quite  depend. 

"  Tonight,"  she  hesitated.  "  Tonight  has  really 
made  a  good  many  things  —  clear  to  me.  Things 
that  were  moving  around  in  my  mind,  though  I 
didn't  know  quite  what  to  call  them.  For  one  thing, 
it  has  made  me  —  realize,"  her  eyes  darkened,  "  that 
my  time  for  really  being  —  a  woman  —  not  in  the 
copybook  sense  —  is  diminishing.  Getting  short. 
Oh,  you  and  Mr.  Billett  will  have  to  reconcile  your 
knowledge  of  Sargent's  and  my  situation  with  what 
ever  moral  ideas  you  may  happen  to  have  on  fathers- 
in-law  and  friends'  fathers  for  some  time  yet  —  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  how  you're  going  to  do  it,  espe 
cially  Mr.  Billett,  and  I  can't  honestly  say  that 
I  particularly  care.  But  that  will  not  be  —  perma 
nent,  I  imagine.  You  understand?  " 


278  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

She  put  her  hand  on  the  door-knob  to  imply  that 
the  audience  was  over. 

"  I  shall  miss  Louise,  though,"  she  said,  frankly. 

"  Louise  will  miss  you."  Oliver  saw  no  need  for 
being  politic  now.  He  added  hesitatingly,  "After 
all  —  " 

"  Oh,  no.  No,"  she  said  lightly  but  very  firmly. 
"  I  couldn't  very  well,  now,  could  I?  "  and  Oliver, 
in  spite  of  all  the  broadmindedness  upon  which  he 
prided  himself,  was  left  rather  dumb. 

"  Oh,  it  won't  be  —  difficult,"  she  added.  "We 
can  keep  up  —  in  the  office  —  yes?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Oliver  hastily.  He  might  be  signing 
a  compact  with  all  the  powers  of  darkness,  but 
even  so. 

"  For  the  rest,  I  am  —  used  to  things  like  that," 
she  added,  and  once  again  her  face  grew  suddenly 
bright  with  pain.  Then  she  recovered  herself. 

"  Well  —  our  next  merry  meeting  and  so  forth," 
she  said  airily.  "  Because  when  it  happens,  if  it 
does,  I  may  be  so  stodgily  respectable  you'll  be  very 
glad  to  ask  me  to  dinner,  you  know.  Or  I  may  be 
—  completely  disreputable  —  one  never  knows. 
But  in  any  case,"  and  she  gave  her  hand. 

"  Mr.  Billett  must  be  freezing  to  death  in  that 
car,"  she  murmured.  '  Good-by,  Oliver,  and  my  best 
if  wholly  unrespectable  good  wishes." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  279 

"  Thanks  and  —  good  luck  to  you." 

She  turned  on  him  swiftly. 

"  Oh,  no.  All  the  happiness  in  the  world  and  no 
luck  — that's  better,  isn't  it?  Good-by." 

"  Good-by." 

And  then  Oliver  was  out  in  the  hall,  pressing  the 
button  that  would  summon  a  sleepy,  disgruntled 
elevator-boy  to  take  him  down  to  Ted  and  the  car. 
He  decided  as  he  waited  that  few  conversations  he 
had  ever  had  made  him  feel  quite  so  inescapably, 
irritatingly  young;  that  he  saw  to  the  last  inch  of 
exactitude  just  why  Mr.  Piper  completely  and  Ted 
very  nearly  had  fallen  in  love  with  Mrs.  Severance; 
that  she  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  individuals 
he  had  ever  met;  and  that  he  hoped  from  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  he  never,  never  saw  her  again. 


XLIV 

TED  and  he  had  little  conversation  going  back  in  the 
car.  The  most  important  part  of  it  occurred  when 
they  had  left  New  York  behind  and  were  rushing 
along  cool  moon-strewn  roads  to  Southampton. 
Then 

"  Thanks,"  said  Ted  suddenly  and  fervently  and 
did  not  seem  to  be  able  to  say  -anything  more. 

The  events  of  the  evening  had  come  too  close,  at 
moments,  to  grotesque  tragedy  for  Oliver  to  pre 
tend  to  misunderstand  him. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right.  And  anyhow  I  owed  you 
one  for  that  time  with  the  gendarmes  in  Brest." 

"  Maybe,"  but  Ted  didn't  seem  to  be  convinced. 
"  That  was  jocose  though.  Even  at  the  worst." 
The  words  came  with  effort.  "  This  was  —  serious. 
I  owe  you  about  everything,  I  guess." 

"  Oh,  go  take  a  flying  leap  at  a  galloping  goose!  " 

"  Go  do  it  yourself.  Oh,  Oliver,  you  ass,  I  will 
be  pretty  and  polite  about  your  saving  my  life." 
And  both  laughed  and  felt  easier.  "  Saved  a  good 
deal  more  than  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  —  or  what 
counts  for  more  with  me,"  Ted  added  soberly. 

280 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  281 

"  Then  the  letter  I  brought  was  satisfactory?  " 

"Satisfactory?  Gee!  "  said  Ted  intensely,  and 
again  they  fell  silent. 

Some  miles  later  Oliver  added  casually 

"  You  won't  have  any  trouble  with  our  late 
hostess,  by  the  way.  Though  she  knows  all 
about  it." 

"  She  knows?  " 

Oliver  couldn't  resist. 

"And  quite  approves.  But  she's  —  a  sport." 
Then  for  Ted's  sake,  "  Besides,  you  see,  it  would 
crab  her  game  completely." 

"  I'll  tell  Elinor,  though,"  said  Ted,  stubbornly. 

"About  her  father?    You  can't." 

"Oh,  Lord,  no.  About  myself.  Don't  have  to 
give  names  and  addresses." 

"Afterwards." 

"  Well,  yes  —  afterwards.  Though  it  makes  me 
feel  like  >a  swine." 

"  Nobody  our  age  who  hasn't  been  one  or  felt 
like  one  —  some  of  the  time  —  except  Christers  and 
the  dead,"  said  Oliver,  and  they  proceeded  for 
several  minutes  on  the  profundity  of  that  aphorism. 
The  silence  was  broken  by  Ted's  saying  violently, 

"  I  will  marry  her!  I  don't  give  a  damn  what's 
happened." 

"Good  egg.    Of  course  you  will." 


282  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Oliver  chuckled. 

Ted  turned  to  him  anxiously  after  another  silence. 

"Look  Ollie,  that  bump  on  my  head  —  youVe 
seen  the  size  it  is.  Well,  is  it  going  to  just  show  up 
like  thunder  at  this  silly  dance?  " 


XLV 

HALF-PAST  five  in  the  morning  and  Oliver  undress 
ing  wearily  by  the  light  of  a  pale  pink  dawn. 

Now  and  then  he  looks  at  his  bed  with  a  gloating 
expression  that  almost  reaches  the  proportions  of  a 
lust  —  he  is  so  tired  he  can  hardly  get  off  his  clothes. 
The  affairs  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours  mix  in  his 
mind  like  a  jumble  of  colored  postcards,  all  loose 
and  disconnected  and  brightly  unreal.  Ted  — 
Elinor  —  Mrs.  Severance  —  Mr.  Piper  —  the  dance 
he  has  just  left  —  sleep  —  oh  —  sleep! 

Where  is  Ted?  Somewhere  with  Elinor  of  course 
—  it  doesn't  matter  —  both  were  looking  suspi 
ciously  starry  when  he  last  saw  them  across  the 
room  —  engagements  —  marriages  —  sleep  —  Mr. 
Piper's  revolver  —  sleep.  How  will  he  return  Mr. 
Piper's  revolver?  Can't  do  it  tactfully  —  can't  leave 
it  around  to  be  lost,  the  servants  are  too  efficient  — 
send  it  to  Ted  and  Elinor  as  a  wedding  present  —  no, 
that's  not  tactful  either  —  what  silly  thoughts  — 
might  have  been  dead  by  this  time  —  rather  better, 
being  alive  —  and  in  bed  —  and  asleep  —  and 
asleep. 


284  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

Oh,  bed!  and  he  falls  into  it  as  if  he  were  diving 
into  butter  and  though  he  murmurs  "  Nancy  "  once 
to  himself  before  his  head  sinks  into  pillows,  in  two 
seconds  he  is  drugged  with  such  utter  slumber  that 
it  is  only  the  blind  stupefied  face  of  -a  man  under 
ether  that  he  is  able  to  lift  from  his  haven  when  Ted 
comes  in  half  an  hour  later  and  announces,  in  the 
voice  of  one  proclaiming  a  new  revelation,  that 
Elinor  is  the  finest  person  that  ever  lived  and  that 
everything  is  most  wholly  and  completely  all  right. 


XLVI 

"A  LETTER  for  you,  dear  Nancy." 

Mrs.  Winters  gestures  at  it  refinedly  —  she  never 
points  —  as  Nancy  comes  in  to  breakfast  looking 
as  if  whatever  sleep  she  had  had  not  done  her  very 
much  good. 

"  From  your  dear,  dear  mother,  I  should  imagine," 
she  adds  in  sugared  watery  tones. 

Nancy  opens  it  without  much  interest  —  Mother, 
oh,  yes,  Mother.  Six  crossed  pages  of  St.  Louis 
gossip  and  wanderingly  fluent  advice.  She  sets  her 
self  to  read  it,  though,  dutifully  enough  —  she  is 
under  Mrs.  Winters'  eyes. 

Father's  usual  September  cold.  The  evil  ways  of 
friends'  servants.  Good  wishes  to  Mrs.  Winters. 
"  Heart's  Gold  —  such  a  really  inspiring  moving- 
picture."  Advice.  Advice.  Then,  half-way  down 
the  next  to  last  page  Nancy  stops  puzzledly.  She 
doesn't  quite  understand. 

"And  hope,  my  daughter,  that  now  you  are 
really  cured  though  you  may  have  passed 
through  bitter  waters  but  all  such  things  are 
but  God's  divine  will  to  chasten  us.  And  when 
285 


286  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

the  young  man  told  me  of  his  escapade  (heavily 
underlined)  I  felt  that  even  over  the  telephone 
he  might  have  " 

She  sets  herself  wearily  to  decode  some  sort  of 
definite  meaning  out  of  Mother's  elliptic  style.  An 
escapade.  Of  Oliver?  and  over  the  telephone  — 
what  was  that?  Mother  hadn't  said  anything  — 

She  finishes  the  letter  and  then  rereads  all  the 
parts  of  it  that  seem  to  have  any  bearing  on  the 
cryptogram,  and  finally  near  the  end,  and  evidently 
connected  with  the  "  telephone,"  she  comes  upon 
the  phrase  "  that  day." 

There  is  only  one  day  that  Mother  alludes  to  as 
"  That  Day  "  now.  Before  her  broken  engagement 
"  That  Day  "  was  when  Father  failed. 

But  Oliver  hadn't  telephoned  —  she'd  asked 
Mother  particularly  if  he  had,  and  he  hadn't.  But 
surely  if  he  had  telephoned,  surely,  surely,  Mother 
would  have  told  her  about  it  —  Mother  would  have 
known  that  there  were  a  few  things  where  she 
really  hadn't  any  right  to  interfere. 

Mother  had  never  liked  Oliver,  though  she'd  pre 
tended.  Never. 

Nancy  remembers  back  and  with  fatally  clear 
vision.  It  is  fortunate  that  Mrs.  Ellicott  cannot  turn 
over  with  Nancy  that  little  shelf-full  of  memories 
—  all  the  small  places  where  she  was  not  quite  truth- 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  287 

ful  with  Nancy,  where  she  was  not  quite  fair,  where 
she  "  kept  things  from  her  "  —  Mrs.  Ellicott  has 
always  been  the  kind  of  woman  who  believes  in 
"  keeping  things  from  "  people  as  long  as  possible 
and  then  "  breaking  them  gently."  Almost  any  sort 
of  things. 

It  is  still  more  fortunate  that  Mrs.  Ellicott  can 
not  see  Nancy's  eyes  as  she  reviews  all  the  tiny 
deceptions,  all  the  petty  affairs  about  which  she  was 
never  told  or  trusted  —  and  all  for  her  own  best  in 
terests,  my  dear,  Mrs.  Ellicott  would  most  believ- 
ingly  assure  her  —  but  when  parents  stand  so  much 
in  Loco  Dei  to  nearly  all  children  —  and  when  the 
children  have  long  ago  found  out  that  their  God  is 
not  only  a  jealous  God  but  one  that  must  be 
wheedled  and  propitiated  like  an  early  Jehovah  be 
cause  that  is  the  only  thing  to  be  done  with  Gods 
you  can't  trust  — 

Nancy  doesn't  want  to  believe.  She  keeps  telling 
herself  that  she  won't,  she  absolutely  won't  unless 
she  absolutely  has  to.  But  she  is  lucky  or  unlucky 
enough  to  be  a  person  of  some  intuition  —  she  knows 
Oliver,  and,  also,  she  knows  her  mother  —  though 
now  she  is  beginning  to  think  with  an  empty  feeling 
that  she  really  doesn't  know  the  latter  at  all. 

What  facts  there  are  are  rather  like  Mrs.  Elli- 
cott's  handwriting  —  vague  and  crossed  and  illegibly 


288  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

hard  to  read.  But  Nancy  stares  at  them  all  the  time 
that  she  is  eating  her  breakfast  and  responding 
mechanically  to  Mrs.  Winters'  questions.  And  then, 
suddenly,  she  knows. 

Mrs.  Ellicott  like  many  inexperienced  criminals, 
has  committed  the  deadly  error  of  letting  her  mind 
dwell  too  long  on  the  mise-en-scene  of  her  crime. 
And  her  pen  —  that  tell-tale  pen  that  all  her  life  she 
has  taken  a  delight  almost  sensual  in  letting  run 
on  from  unwieldy  sentence  to  pious  formless  sen 
tence,  has  at  last  betrayed  her  completely.  There  is 
genuine  tragedy  in  store  for  Mrs.  Ellicott  —  Nancy 
in  spite  of  being  modern,  is  Nancy  and  will  forgive 
her  —  but  Nancy,  for  all  her  trying,  will  never  quite 
be  able  to  respect  her  again. 

Nancy  doesn't  finish  her  breakfast  as  neatly  as 
Mrs.  Winters  would  have  wished.  She  goes  into  the 
next  room  to  telephone. 

"  Business,  dear?  "  says  Mrs.  Winters  brightly 
from  the  midst  of  a  last  piece  of  toast  and  "  Yes  — 
something  Mother  wants  me  to  do  "  from  Nancy, 
unfairly. 

Then  she  gives  the  number  —  it  is  still  the  same 
number  she  and  Oliver  used  when  they  used  to  talk 
after  he  had  caught  the  last  train  back  to  Melgrove 
and  both  by  all  principles  that  make  for  the  Life 
Efficient  should  have  gone  to  bed  —  though  to 
Nancy's  mind  that  seems  a  great  while  ago. 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  289 

"  Can  I  speak  to  Mrs.  Crowe,  please?  "  The  ex 
plaining  can  be  as  awful  as  it  likes,  Nancy  doesn't 
care  any  more.  An  agitated  rustle  comes  to  her 
ears  —  that  must  be  Mrs.  Winters  listening. 

"  Mrs.  Crowe?    This  —  is  —  Nancy  —  Ellicott." 
She  says  it  very  loudly  and  distinctly  <and  for  Mrs. 
Winters  to  hear. 


XLVII 

OLIVER  wakes  around  one  o'clock  with  a  dim  con 
sciousness  that  noisy  crowds  of  people  have  been 
talking  very  loudly  at  him  a  good  many  too  many 
times  during  the  past  few  hours,  but  that  he  has 
managed  to  fool  them,  many  or  few,  by  always  act 
ing  as  much  like  a  Body  as  possible.  His  chief  wish 
is  to  turn  over  on  the  other  side  and  sleep  for  another 
seven  hours  or  so,  but  one  of  those  people  is  stand 
ing  respectfully  beside  his  bed  and  though  Oliver 
blinks  eyes  at  him  reproachfully,  he  will  not  vanish 
back  into  his  proper  nonentity  —  he  remains  stand 
ing  there  —  obsequious  words  come  out  of  his 
mouth.  • 

"  Ten  minutes  to  one,  sir.    Lunch  is  at  one,  sir." 

Oliver   stares   at   the   blue   waistcoat  gloomily. 
"  What's  that?  " 

"  Ten  minutes  to  one,  sir.    Lunch  is  at  one,  sir." 

"  Lunch?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  I'd  better  get  up,  I  suppose.    Ow-ooh!  " 
as  he  stretches. 

"  Yes,  sir.    A  bath,  sir?  " 
290 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  291 

"  Bath?  " 

"  Yes;  sir." 

"Oh,  yes,  bath.  No  —  don't  bother  —  I  mean, 
I'll  take  it  myself.  You  needn't  watch  me." 

"  Certainly  not,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir.  There  have 
been  several  telephone  calls  for  you,  sir." 

Oliver  sighs  —  he  is  really  awake  now  —  it  will 
be  less  trouble  to  get  up  than  to  try  and  go  back  to 
sleep.  Besides,  if  he  tries,  that  brass-buttoned 
automaton  in  front  of  him  will  probably  start  shak 
ing  him  gently  in  its  well-trained  English  way. 

"  Telephone  calls?    Who  telephone-called?  " 

"  The  name  was  Crowe,  sir.  The  lady  who  was 
calling  said  she  would  call  again  around  lunch  time. 
She  said  you  were  to  be  sure  to  wait  until  she  called, 


sir." 


"  Oh,  yes,  certainly."  Politely,  "And  now  I  think 
I'll  get  up,  if  you  don't  mind?  " 

"Oh,  no,  sir,"  rather  scandalizedly.  "You  are 
in  need  of  nothing,  sir?  " 

Oliver  thinks  of  replying,  "  Oh,  just  bring  me  a 
little  more  sleep  if  you  have  it  in  the  house,"  but 
then  thinks  better  of  it. 

"  No,  thanks." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  and  the  automaton  pussyfoots 
away. 

Oliver  still  half  asleep  manages  to  rise  and  find 


292  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDS 

slippers  and  a  wrapper  and  then  pads  over  to  an 
empty  bathroom  where  he  disports  himself  like  a 
whale.  To  his  surprise  he  discovers  himself  whis 
tling  —  true,  the  sunlight  has  an  excellent  shine  to  it 
this  morning  and  the  air  and  the  sky  outside  seem 
blue  and  crisp  with  first  fall  —  but  even  so. 

"  Nancy,"  he  murmurs  and  frowns  and  finishes 
his  bath  rather  gloomily  —  a  gloom  which  is  in  no 
wise  diminished  when  he  goes  downstairs  to  find 
everybody  nearly  through  lunch  and  Ted  and  Elinor, 
as  far  away  from  each  other  at  the  table  as  possible, 
quite  sure  that  they  are  behaving  exactly  as  usual 
while  the  remnants  of  the  house-party  do  their  best 
to  seem  tactfully  unconcerned. 

Oliver,  while  managing  to  get  through  a  copious 
and  excellent  lunch  in  spite  of  his  sorrows,  regards 
them  with  the  morose  pity  of  a  dyspeptic  octo 
genarian  for  healthy  children.  It  is  all  very  well 
and  beautiful  for  them  now,  he  supposes  grimly, 
but  sooner  or  later  even  such  babes  as  they  will  have 
to  Face  Life  —  Come  Up  Against  Facts  — 

.He  is  having  a  second  piece  of  blueberry  pie  when 
he  is  summoned  to  the  telephone.  Rather  tiresome 
of  Mother,  really,  he  thinks  as  he  goes  out  of  the 
dining-room  —  something  about  his  laundry  again 
most  probably  —  or  when  he  is  coming  back. 

"  Hello,  Oliver?  " 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  293 

"  Hello,  dear.    Anything  important?  " 

Mrs.  Crowe's  voice  has  a  tiny  chuckle  in  it  —  a 
chuckle  that  only  comes  when  Mrs.  Crowe  is  being 
very  pleased  indeed. 

"  Well,  Oliver,  that  depends  —  " 

"  Well,  Mother,  honestly!  I'm  right  in  the  middle 
of  lunch  —  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  call  up  again,  if  you'd  rather,  Oliver 
dear."  But  Mrs.  Crowe  for  private  reasons  doesn't 
seem  to  be  at  all  ashamed  of  taking  up  so  much  of 
her  son's  very  valuable  time. 

"  Only  I  did  think  it  would  interest  you  —  that 
you'd  like  to  know  as  soon  as  possible." 

Impatiently,  «  Yes.    Well?  " 

"  Well  —  a  friend  of  yours  is  coming  to  see  you 
on  the  three  o'clock.  A  rather  good  friend.  We 
thought  you'd  be  back  by  then,  you  see,  and  so  — " 

Oliver's  heart  jumps  queerly  for  an  instant. 

"  Who?  " 

But  the  imp  of  the  perverse  has  taken  complete 
charge  of  Mrs.  Crowe. 

"  Oh  —  a  friend.  Not  a  childhood  one  —  oh,  no 
—  but  a  —  good  —  one,  though  you  haven't  seen 
each  other  for  —  more  than  three  weeks  now,  isn't 
it?  You  should  just  be  able  to  make  it,  I  should 
think,  if  somebody  brought  you  over  in  a  car,  but 
of  course,  if  you're  so  busy  —  " 


294  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  Mother!  " 

Then  Oliver  jangles  the  little  hook  of  the  tele 
phone  frantically  up  and  down. 

"Mother!  Listen!  Listen!  Who  is  it?  Is  it 
—  honestly?  " 

But  Mrs.  Crowe  has  hung  up.  Shall  he  get  the 
connection  again?  But  that  means  waiting  —  and 
Mother  said  he  would  just  be  able  to  make  it  —  and 
Mother  isn't  at  all  the  kind  that  would  fool  him  over 
a  thing  like  this  no  matter  how  much  she  wanted  to 
tease.  Oliver  bounds  back  toward  the  dining-room 
and  nearly  runs  into  Elinor  Piper.  He  grabs  her 
by  the  shoulders. 

"  Listen,  El!  "  he  says  feverishly.  "  Oh,  I'll  con 
gratulate  you  properly  and  all  that  some  time  but 
this  is  utterly  everything  —  I've  got  to  go  home 
right  away  —  this  minute  —  toot  sweet  —  and  no, 
by  gum,  I  won't  apologize  this  time  for  asking  you 
to  get  somebody  to  take  me  over  in  a  car!  " 


XLVIII 

SHE  was  sitting  on  the  porch  of  the  house  —  a 
small  figure  in  the  close  blue  hat  he  knew,  a  figure 
that  seemed  as  if  it  had  come  tired  from  a  long 
journey.  She  had  been  talking  with  his  mother,  but 
as  soon  as  the  car  drew  up,  Mrs.  Crowe  rose  quickly 
and  went  into  the  house. 

Then  they  were  together  again. 

The  instant  paid  them  for  all.  For  the  last  weeks' 
bitterness  and  the  human  doubt,  the  human  mis 
understandings  that  had  made  it.  And  even  as  it 
opened  before  them  a  path  some  corners  and  resting- 
places  of  which  seemed  almost  too  proud  with  living 
for  them  to  dare  to  be  alive  on  it  —  both  knew  that 
that  fidelity  which  is  intense  and  of  the  soul  had 
ended  between  them  forever  an  emptier  arrogance 
that  both  had  once  delighted  in  like  bright  colors  — 
a  brittle  pride  that  lives  only  by  the  falser  things 
in  being  young. 

They  had  thought  they  were  sure  of  each  other  in 
their  first  weeks  together  —  they  had  said  many 
words  about  it  and  some  of  them  clever  enough. 
But  their  surety  now  had  no  need  of  any  words  at 

295 


296  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

all  —  it  had  been  too  well  tempered  by  desolation  to 
find  any  obligation  for  speech  or  the  calling  of  itself 
secure. 

They  kissed  —  not  'as  a  pleasant  gesture,  and  no 
fear  of  looking  publicly  ridiculous  stopped  them. 

The  screen  door  behind  Nancy  pushed  open. 
Jane  Ellen  appeared,  Jane  Ellen,  by  the  look  of  her, 
intent  upon  secret  and  doubtful  business,  a  large 
moth-eaten  bear  dangling  by  its  leg  from  one  of  her 
plump  hands.  She  was  too  concerned  with  getting 
her  charge  through  the  door  to  notice  what  was  hap 
pening  at  first  but  as  soon  as  she  was  fairly  out  on 
the  porch  she  looked  about  her.  The  bear  dropped 
from  her  fingers  —  her  eyes  grew  rounder  than 
buttons  and  very  large. 

"  Why  it's  Oliver  and  he's  kissing  Aunt  Nancy!  " 
she  squeaked  in  a  small  voice  of  reproachful 
surprise. 


XLIX 

WHATEVER  the  number  was  of  the  second-class 
stateroom  on  the  Citric,  it  was  rather  too  far  down 
in  the  belly  of  that  leviathan  to  have  suited  fashion 
able  people.  But  Oliver  and  Nancy  had  stopped 
being  fashionable  some  time  before  and  they  told 
each  other  that  it  was  much  nicer  than  first-class  on 
one  of  the  small  liners  with  apparent  conviction  and 
never  got  tired  of  rejoicing  at  their  luck  in  its  being 
an  outside.  It  was  true  that  the  port-hole  might 
most  of  the  time  have  been  wholly  ornamental  for 
all  the  good  it  did  them,  for  it  was  generally 
splashed  with  grey  October  sea,  but,  at  least,  as 
Nancy  lucently  explained,  you  could  see  things  — 
once  there  had  actually  been  a  porpoise  —  and  that 
neither  of  them,  in  their  present  condition,  would 
have  worried  very  much  about  it  if  their  cabin  had 
been  an  aquarium  was  a  fact  beyond  dispute. 

"  Time  to  get  up,  dear!  "  This  is  Oliver  a  little 
sternly  from  the  upper  berth.  "  That  was  your  bath 
that  came  in  a  minute  ago  and  said  something  in 
Cockney.  At  least  I  think  it  was  —  mine's  voice 
is  a  good  deal  more  like  one  of  Peter's  butlers  —  " 

297 


298  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

"  But,  Ollie,  I'm  so  comfortable!  " 

"  So  am  I.    But  think  of  breakfast." 

"  Well  —  breakfast  is  a  point."  Then  she 
chuckles,  "  Oh,  Ollie,  wouldn't  it  have  been  awful 
if  we'd  either  of  us  been  bad  sailors !  " 

"  We  couldn't  have  been,"  says  Oliver  placidly. 
"  We  have  too  much  luck." 

"  I  know  but  —  that  awful  woman  with  the  face 
like  a  green  pea  —  oh,  Ollie,  you'd  have  hated  me  — 
we  are  lucky,  darling." 

Oliver  has  thought  seriously  enough  about  getting 
up  to  be  dangling  his  legs  over  the  edge  of  his  shelf 
by  now. 

"  Aren't  we?  "  he  says  soberly.     "  I  mean  I  am." 

"  /  am.  And  everybody's  being  so  nice  about 
giving  us  checks  we  can  use  instead  of  a  lot  of 
silly  things  we  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with." 
She  smiles.  "  Those  are  your  feet,"  she  announces 
gravely. 

"Yes.    Well?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.    Only  I'm  going  to  tickle  them." 

"  You're  not?  Ouch  —  Nancy,  you  little  devil!  " 
and  Oliver  slides  hastily  to  the  floor.  Then  he  goes 
over  to  the  port-hole. 

"A  very  nice  day!  "  he  announces  in  the  face  of  a 
bull's  eye  view  of  dull  skies  and  oily  dripping  sea. 

"  Is  it?    How  kind  of  it!    Ollie,  I  must  get  up." 


YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE  299 

"Nancy,  you  must."  He  goes  over  and  kneels 
awkwardly  by  the  side  of  her  berth  —  an  absurd 
figure  enough  no  doubt  in  tortoise-shell  spectacles 
and  striped  pajamas,  but  Nancy  doesn't  think  so. 
As  for  him  he  simply  knows  he  never  will  get  used 
to  having  her  with  him  this  way  all  the  time;  he 
takes  his  breath  delicately  whenever  he  thinks  of 
it,  as  if,  if  he  weren't  very  careful  always  about 
being  quiet  she  might  disappear  any  instant  like  a 
fairy  back  into  a  book. 

He  kisses  her. 

"  Good  morning,  Nancy." 

Her  arms  go  round  him. 

"  Good  morning,  dearest." 

"  It  isn't  that  I  don't  want  to  get  up,  really,"  she 
explains  presently.  "  It's  only  that  I  like  lying  here 
and  thinking  about  all  the  things  that  are  going  to 
happen." 

"  We  are  lucky,  you  know.  Lordy  bless  the 
American  Express." 

"And  my  job."    She  smiles  and  he  winces. 

"  Oh,  Ollie,  dearr 

"  I  was  so  damn  silly,"  says  Oliver  muffledly. 

"  Both  of  us.  But  now  it  doesn't  matter.  And 
we're  both  of  us  going  to  work  and  be  very  efficient 
at  it  —  only  now  we'll  have  time  and  together  and 
Paris  to  do  all  the  things  we  really  wanted  to  do. 


300  YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    PRIDE 

You  are  going  to  be  a  great  novelist,  Oliver,  you 
know  —  " 

"  Well,  you're  going  to  be  the  foremost  etcher  — 
or  etcheress  —  since  Whistler  —  there.  But,  oh, 
Nancy,  I  don't  care  if  I  write  great  novels  —  or  any 
novels  —  or  anything  else  —  just  now." 

She  mocks  him  pleasantly.  "  Why,  Ollie,  Ollie, 
Your  Art?  " 

"  Oh,  damn  my  art  —  I  mean  —  well,  I  don't  quite 
mean  that.  But  this  is  life." 

"  Just  as  large  and  twice  as  natural,"  says  Nancy 
quoting,  but  for  once  Oliver  is  too  interested  with 
living  to  be  literary. 

"  Life,"  he  says,  with  an  odd  shakiness,  an  odd 
triumph,  "Life,"  and  his  arms  go  round  her 
shoulders. 


THE    END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


SJun160VD 

K^C»  n  ._..„> 

•Jlw  6'     1S60 

AUG  2  0  2002 

I 

LD  21A-50m-4,'60                                 .   .General  L  ibrary 
(A9562slO)476B                                  University  of  California 
Berkeley 

YB  5944 


848704 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


